From the Ashes, Hope
by K18
Summary: A very broken Reid. Hotch attempts to deal with the situation. Partial AU, Hotch and others still in the BAU but Reid's not. He's under the control of a government program instituationalised slavery, hotch not married, slash in later chapters
1. Chapter 1

HOTCH POV

He was beautiful, I hadn't been expecting that. They're usually so broken by the time we see them that any grace has long since been dragged from them. Their handlers are rough with them but that's not it, I wasn't even sure it was the medications; maybe it was the vile, cruel filth we forced through their minds every waking moment. Maybe it was the way images of sick criminals were thrust at them, hundreds of facts and all of them horrific. There was nothing left of beauty once the horror of what their minds could access drew across their eyes. No matter the face they wore, they were ugly, broken creatures.

I believed, until I saw him, the thin fragile form practically dragged into my office.

"Heard you needed a Sera, we've got a new one, just sent over from training" pronounced the handler, smiling at me, "I hear he's quite the talent this one" he practically snarled.

The youth was barely standing, supported between the two handlers to keep him from falling to the ground. He was obviously aware however as his eyes scanned the room, but avoiding my face as he had been taught to do, well trained I noted, but they all were. Too dangerous to let out if they were likely to break conditioning.

I nodded and ushered the men in, as usual the kid was placed on the floor, kneeling in the accepted position.

"You sure you don't want to do this in the interrogation room?"

"Yes, I'm sure" I answered annoyed, if I had to do this then I would at least give the young man a bit of dignity.

"Ok then" He muttered, obviously disapproving.

They brought out the locks for the harness the Sera always wore and without ceremony fastened the various arm, leg and body restraints together, effectively immobilizing him. I nodded to them to step back before bringing out the folder of crime scene photos and profile outline.

I hated this part of the job, watching the terror pass across their faces before the inevitable crash of the new consciousness into their minds. But this young man had no such terror, he looked almost resigned as I flipped open the file and started sorting out the contents.

"Read me the profile first" He sated quietly, and I froze, shocked. They _never_ spoke except when the unsub took over. For a moment I looked at him in astonishment,_ so he has an opinion._ But too soon the handler was there, blubbering his apologies.

"Sorry about that sir. Probably low on Amsatheirine" he blustered before crouching down, beside him and unclipping the medication kit he carried.

"No, let him speak. Why do you want to hear that first?" I questioned, the genuine curiosity getting the better of my judgment. The handler stilled, he had a needle poised against the skin. The young man was staring at it, is if he feared looking away might cause the needed to strike. I saw his discomfort and turning to the handler said.

"Put it away, and please give us some room"

"Sir, I don't think that's a good idea. Policy says we need to keep the dosage stable"

"When was his last shot?"

"12:30" The second handler answered, pulling out the chart.

"That's only an hour ago. Are you telling me that you regularly give him shots hourly?"

"No, no of course not"

"Glad to hear it. Now if you could give us some space, I'd like to hear what he has to say"

"This is highly irregular" he protested, but did back off finally.

When I saw the young man had stilled I knelt down and repeated the question.

"Why do you want to hear the profile first?" I asked as gently as possible but he doesn't seem to hear me. I try again gently coaxing him to pay attention, I look at the name on his collar.

"Reid, can you hear me? You're not going to get the shot. You can speak to me, I'm not mad, I'd just like to know why you'd like to hear the profile first"

It took a few long moments for the youth to speak, he was obviously fighting an internal battle and I was more than willing to let him take his time.

"I...it helps to have a base for the images, some foundation on which to categorize the victims" He answered nervously.

"I see" I tried to catch his eyes but he continued to stare at the file in my hands. In the end I simply nodded and opened the file to the profile and began to read.

REID POV

"_Read me the profile first" I almost gag at the words, the familiar nausea claws at my stomach and I almost bite my tongue to ward it off, but thankfully I manage to stop myself in time. I went down that road too many times to risk the resulting 'management'. Instead I focus my eyes on the folder, on his hands and on anything to distract me, sometimes I wish I could just open my eyes and scream desperately, sobbing out the pain to the world. _

_But instead I try to remain still as the panic begins to set in, Harry has the kit out and he's about to give me another shot of the rat poison they call a medication. I can't stop staring that the needle poised next to my skin, one inch closer and it'll enter my vein pilling into my bloodstream and head straight for my brain. I'll probably have enough coherent time to warn them of the seizure, but I'm never sure, sometimes it comes on to fast and I'll end up thrashing on the floor in the middle of a tonic-clonic within a few minutes. _

_Somehow the drug never arrives and I'm left sitting there listening to a gentle voice telling me that it's ok to speak, and I'm not in trouble. I wish the man who owned that voice knew the trouble I really was in; the gentleness behind it was intoxicating. He made me want to reach out and touch him, to look into his eyes and tell him the awful truth. _

_But the reality was that he was simply another handler, another uncaring, cruel figure of the system. He wanted an answer so I gave him one, a logical one. _

_And as soon as the words started pouring into my brain I could feel the shift, That almost-pain almost-pleasure, but overwhelming loss before I could no longer speak, someone else was in control and for a few minutes at least I could disappear. Never mind that the person speaking with my mouth, and gesturing with my hands was a butchering rapist, at least I didn't have to care, right, and it wasn't like I had a choice. _

It was an easy transition, ten minutes in total, I was staggered, usually they gasped and fought it harder but he just closed his eyes for a second and was gone.

When they eyes opened again there was a different man in the room, a man angry with the world and everyone in it. He sneered at me.

"So you found one of my girls?" The southern accent layered on thick and heavy.

I shouldn't be surprised at this, but I still am, I hate using Sera's. They're haunting reminders of the despicable nature we all hold. So many of them are broken remnants, so many die young. I shrug it off and look into his eyes.

We don't know how Sera's do it, how they can enter someone else's mind. We do understand the rules however, they aren't that person and they can't usually give us specific information, instead they somehow collect the known information and create inside their minds a collage of who the person is. They start to think like them, behave like them, even have their skills and in most cases feel exactly what the person they become is feeling. We don't know how it occurs but it's a dangerous skill and if put in the wrong hands can have horrific consequences.

It's generally accepted that Seras have some sort of empathic ability that we simply don't understand yet. Their ability to understand and process information is far beyond that of the normal person and their sensitivity to changes in behavior is incredible.

"Where are they?"

"Who?"

"Your girls" I almost spat the words out, the voice coming out of his mouth defying the youthful face.

"Ah Hannah, my jewel. And Leah the Angel."

"Yes where are they"

"Below the earth but above the water. Where the wild flowers bloom blue and white. Where horses don't go but children spends their hours screaming" Hotch moans, obviously more of the riddles this unsub keeps sending. God I just wish it didn't work like that, I sign and try once more.

"Where are they?"

""Below the earth but above the water. Where the wild flowers bloom blue and white. Where horses don't go but children spends their hours screaming" he repeats, over and over again, laughing. It soon becomes clear that I'm not going to get any more out of him this time.

"Ok, let's bring him out" I tell his handlers, motioning them over. I hate this part, the most direct way to bring a sera out is to stimulate the central nervous system. The original personality takes control back. The handler steps forward and I can't help but look away, this is not something I agree with, but I have nothing I can do about it.

He pulls out a remote and fiddles with it for a moment before suddenly I can hear screams pitching across my office, harrowing and desperate.

"STOP!" I yell, "It's enough!", Reid is back, I can see by the way his shoulders are hunched and his eyes down cast. He's sobbing miserably, bunching his fists and breathing in ragged grasps. The remote is put away, tucked into the jacket pocket of the handler; I can't imagine what that feels like, to know that someone else has the ability to give you excruciating pain by simply pushing a button from half way across the room. To know that you have no control over your own body in that way, I simply cannot imagine it.

I have to fight the urge not to touch him, comfort him. You don't touch Sera, no one does except the handlers. Some uneducated people believe they can steal your soul if they touch you, or look you in the eye.

I know better of course but it doesn't help other peoples' misconceptions. I lean over the kid, and carefully unclip the fastenings of his harness.

"Are you alright?" I whisper to him, soothingly, not really expecting an answer. But under his breathe I can hear it, desperate, and for the first time he meets my eyes.

"No" His gaze locks into my soul, _help me_, he seems to beg, _I can't survive this much longer. _I don't know how long we sat there looking at each others it felt like hours but was probably only a few moments. His head was thrust forward forcefully, the handler grabbed a fistful of his hair before pulling out the blindfold.

"I'm sorry about this Sir" he said fastening it around Reid's eyes. I was in shock, those eyes had begged me to help, but now they were covered and I didn't need to face them anymore. Before I could speak, he'd pulled out the needle and jabbed it into Reid's arm, the effect was almost instantaneous as he fell limp.

I stood up and ran my hands through my hair shakily. I could barely think, and my hands were shaking. I pushed them into my pockets and leant against my desk, trying to catch my breath.

"Bring him back tomorrow. I'll need another session" said unsteadily. The handler simply nodded and pulled the kid up off the floor.

"Don't worry about it Sir, everyone reacts like that" I nod and watch them lead him out the door. My heart nearly stopped as he was thrust into the elevator, _those eyes._

That night I dreamt of him, that scream echoed across the room as my eyes flew open. My job was to help, to save people and every day and here I was watching them torture people in my office.

I'd never been comfortable with using Sera in my investigations, and refused to keep one on my team. That fact alone had caused some problems higher up. I simply couldn't face looking at one every day, no matter how much I pressure was put on me.

But somehow the next day I found myself in the section chief's office.

"I'll take a sera on my team."

"I'm glad you finally came round to see reason" she said smiling smugly at me.

"But I have some terms"

"Of course, I expected as much", not missing a beat she looks at me expectantly.

" I want the Sera that came to my office yesterday" she nods, "and I want complete guardianship, no handlers"

"You're kidding right. I can't ok that"

"It's common in military teams for the leader to hold guardianship, why can't I?"

"Because we're not military! You're working with civilians, in uncontrollable environments everyday. It's too dangerous to let one simply walk around unattended."

"What if I take total responsibility? It's the only way I will let you put one on my team." She saw the utter immovability in my face.

"I'll see what I can do." She said dismissively, but I knew I had won. "But he's your responsibility inside and outside the office, that means all day everyday, he's in your presence and under your control. Any problems and the blame falls on your shoulders" she says warily. I nod and shake her hand.

What I would do now with the youth, I had no idea. As I stepped out of the office I realized, for the first time in my life I am responsible for another.

_They left the blindfold on all night and it wasn't like I could remove it myself, I didn't even try. I was led back to my room, stripped naked and placed on the bed, my feet cuffed to the end. _

"_Sleep" Harry orders roughly, "after the shit you pulled today, I don't think you deserve dinner" _

_I nod, I knew better than to speak. I lay back on the pillow and tried to still my breathing. Missing dinner isn't much of a punishment, I barely even register hunger anymore anyway and I was never a big eater. I know I should eat to keep my strength up but somehow everything seems to taste bland and gritty and the nausea is better to manage if I have nothing left to throw up anyway. _

_Anyway, it's like they keep telling me, my body isn't my own anymore, my mind is theirs. Why should I care about their possessions, it's not like I can go without eating for too long anyway, soon enough some doctor will be in here with a tube to force down my nose and a dozen needles to test my blood for malnourishment. And then Harry will be gone and I'll have a new handler, hopefully one less enamored to that damn remote. _

_The night passed slowly as the visions scout across my brain, desires that aren't mine gnaw at the edges of my consciousness until finally I wake sweating and begging out loud for respite. The cold night air drifting through my room from the small window is the only comfort offered to me and as the sweat starts to dry on my skin the shivering starts. Cold then hot and cold again, all night long by body screams for attention but I can barely notice it behind the voices screaming in my mind for release. And some of them are screaming for murder. _

_As morning comes I can feel the heat slowly sink back into the walls chilled overnight. I can't see the light but I can feel it against my skin, if I concentrate hard I can feel the heat and ignore the voices. Concentrate on the sensations I remind myself, ground yourself in your body. But I can't manage it anymore, the drugs and the darkness are locking me out, I can barely feel the hunger that should be tearing my insides apart, I haven't eaten in 30 hours but I feel nothing. _

_The lock clicks back and I hear the door slide open, it's the nurse, Hannah, and not Harry that opened it, I can hear her small footsteps crossing the room._

"_Spenser? Are you awake?"_

"_Yes" _

"_Good, how did you sleep?" I hear the warmth in her voice._

"_Alright" I lie, but she's caught the lie in my voice immediately. _

"_Why didn't you ask for a sleeping pill?" _

"_You know I don't like them. I have enough drugs in my system already, I don't need more" I told her warily, she could force me to take them, but that's not like her. She'll only give me what she has to under doctor's orders. She does her job but doesn't get any enjoyment out of it. _

"_I'm going to take this off now, just relax." she says touching the blindfold, I nod and lower my head into the familiar position. I feel her pulling at the buckle in the back, it slides off easily and as I open my eyes I'm welcomed with a view of her hands. _

_I've never see her face, only her hands and feet, the conditioning is so strong that even if I wanted to, I couldn't meet her eyes. I don't know how I looked at that detective, all I remember is the gentle concern in his voice and the almost animalistic need to seek protection and I was soon lost there in his gaze. Something cool and comforting passed between us I'm sure, but the drugs soon erased that._

_Hannah places a tray in front of me, porridge and milk. _

"_Take it easy this time" she warns, "I don't think you managed to keep down any of yesterday's breakfast"._

_I pick up the spoon and take a small portion experimentally; I wait a few minutes to see if my stomach will take it without protest. Fortunately, it seems my fast yesterday has paid off and the nausea doesn't force me to the sink by the bed. Hannah smiles knowingly and hands me the milk. _

_Thankfully she waits till I've finished my meal before pulling out the kit of drugs. She preps my skin and injects the first lot of drugs before rubbing the spot. We wait a tense few minutes while the drug courses through my veins, too little and she'll need to give me more. She pulls out a finger prick tester and clips my finger. She smiles at the results._

"_That's all you need now. Let's get you dressed" _

_She pulls out the brown and helps me pull them on. At first I found them humiliating but now, I don't even spare them a second look. It's the harness that still sends shivers down my spine. It looks similar to a full-body abseiling harness but with some additional fastenings. It also comes with wrist, ankle, thighs and elbow cuffs and a thick collar. It's designed to provide handlers with an easy and non harmful way to restrain a Sera during a 'session' or if they try to run. It is believed that if allowed to act without supervision, a Sera can and will act often irrationally, slipping into uncharacteristic and often violent behavior. The harness therefore also acts as a warning to others to stay away for their own protection. _

_I don't resist as she clips and buckles the various straps across my chest and down my back. It's not like I could stop her anyway, all she needs to say is 'Down Reid' and I'll find myself kneeling instantly at her feet. Conditioning to obey verbal responses in another means used to control Sera, I can't even remember how many months of pain passed before they were finally happy with my obedience. I don't want to remember so I let her clip the cuffs around my wrists, it's strange to me now how I can think back over those many months of pain and not feel anything, not even anger. It's best not to think to hard about it, I tell myself, no point. But Hannah is talking and I need to pay attention, something is wrong with the way she's speaking, she's upset somehow. _

"_There is some big news for you today. You're leaving us to be put under private guardianship. I'm going to miss you"_

"_What?" I ask shocked_

"_That policeman you visited yesterday has been granted custody of you. You're to be taken over to him this morning once we're ready to go. _

_**CHAPTER 2**_

"You can't be serious!" Emily looked at me like I'd grown a second head, this could be harder than I thought.

"I am perfectly serious. We should have had one on the team long ago, why is it so surprising that I'd bring one on now"

"Because you _hate _Sera" That was Morgan, then, assumptions surpassing the evidence, I'd have to remind him about that again soon I decided.

"I don't hate Sera, I simply do not agree with how they are managed in this country. But that is irrelevant, I have asked for one to be assigned to this team and he will be under my personal guardianship."

"Your guardianship?"

"Yes, to work with them we needed someone to be qualified. I took the course three years ago and my license is still valid, besides it's proving too ineffectual to continue finding Seras to use at each location, it'd be far more effective to bring one along."

"Why now?" Asked Gideon, a strange expression on his face.

"Because yesterday, the Sera I used fell in under ten minutes" I collective gasp reverberated around the room, it was fast if you got them to fall in under an hour, ten minutes was almost impossible.

"He's arriving later today. But now I want you all to finish up your reports and there'll be a meeting in the conference room regarding the new evidence in an hour." I left then, unwilling or unable to explain it fully, doubts filling my mind were argument enough, I didn't need them questioning my judgment.

He arrived later that afternoon, led placidly into my office by the same handlers from yesterday. I knew something was wrong, he was meek today while yesterday he was drugged out but still awake at least.

I sat down at my desk and signed the paperwork that was offered to me, I also placed the remote in my jacket pocket, it's not much heavier than a mobile phone, but seemed to weight a ton.

"I understand that you have some items for me?"

"Yes Sir. You already own all the normal equipment but we have ha few things that have been prescribed for use with this Sera beyond the normal gear. We've also been instructed to provide you with two months worth of medications."

I nod as he places a large box on my desk, "And what are these extra pieces of equipment?"

He pulls up the lid of the box and reaches in.

"I've been his handler for three months and believe me when I say that he's a tough one, even with the training. He's got a big mouth and not enough respect to know when to keep it shut." He hands me an evil looking gag attached to a head harness. "This one comes with a blindfold attachment. You'll need to use it when he's out in public cause there it's easier than punishing him every time he looks at people." I nod meeting his eyes evenly, I was appalled of course but it doesn't help the situation, _every time he looks at people_. I can imagine what that has done to him.

I listen shaken and slightly nauseas as he pulls out the various pieces used to dehumanize the youth, my mouth dry as I usher them out of the room. I shake their hands and thank them for their time before shutting the door to my office a little too quickly behind them but it's better than showing them exactly how much I appreciate their efforts.

I take a few deep breaths and try to gather back my nerve. The young man, Reid I remind myself, is still sitting across from my desk. He's breathing heavily and his hands are clenched into fists. I notice his eyes on the stuff on my desk. I quickly walk over and pack it all back into the box before dumping it onto the floor.

I sit down across from him.

"Reid..." I managed before I realized, something is very wrong with his eyes. He wasn't focusing properly; he couldn't seem to decide on what to look at. And he was shaking slightly. I know this reaction I reminded myself, he's in free fall. _Fuck_

"Reid? Can you hear me? I need you to focus on my voice. You need to listen to my voice" I took his hand in mine and started stroking the palm, "Reid, can you feel that? Can you tell me what I'm doing, focus on the sensation; let it guide you back". I started to panic then, I had never had to deal with this on my own before and this looked like a bad one. His fingertips were turning blue, which meant that blood wasn't flowing well. I started to slap his hand and forearm while talking to him.

"Come on Reid. I really don't want to really hurt you here, but I will if I have to. I will if that's what you need. But I think you can do this without that, you can, I know it. Come on, come back to me" His hand clenched, his hand clenched and my heart stopped beating for a second. He blinked, he blinked and for the second time ever I found myself lost in his eyes.

"Are you with me?" I asked timidly and he nodded shakily. I reach over to feel his pulse but he jerks back instinctively, dragging his chair back a few inches in his haste to move out of my range.

"Reid, I just want to check your pulse. Please don't pull back" Protocol said, don't give them options, give them explanations. I ached to comfort him, take in hands in mine and tell him that it was all ok, but the correct procedure is to stabilize him through verbal instructions and check his vitals. Then if he was physically safe to take him to a place to sleep off the after effects of the free fall, most people gave them a sedative at this point but I wasn't sure that was the best option here. Six months of classes on dealing with seras and not a bone in my body felt like I was acting right.

I leant forward in the chair and slowly reached out my hand. He was shaking again as I took hold of is wrist and gently felt for his pulse. It was fast but regular, I signed inwardly in relief; he was fine. His skin was warm and his eyes clear. I didn't trust my judgment completely however, I would need to book him in to see Dr Harris as soon as possible and find out just what I was dealing with.

"Reid, you're fine. But you need to rest, our investigation has stalled and it's late so we're going home."

_I can't speak. I feel numb in a very physical way, my feet don't register as I place them on the floor, my fingertips can't sense the rough edges of my coveralls they brush as I walk. I feel numb from the inside out. _

_Colours__ appear muted and voices I know aren't there chorus in my ears. Someone is sad while another is anxious, someone is angry and another vicious. And they're all telling me different things. I refuse to acknowledge who is speaking, too many hours spent being told as a child that yes, well, no one is actually there is far better training than any of the horrific training they could devise. _

_Everything was changing and I couldn't stop it, or even slow it down. Everything always changed and I never had a choice. I could feel it coming then, the fight I've been having all night with myself has finally ended. I'm lost to the voices and giving in to none. _

_I floated there in that chasm, somewhere between misery and despair but also somewhere close to acceptance or resignation. And as my mind stilled I felt less and less of my body, less pain, less hope; just less on and on. _

_And the voice that reached me wasn't that bitter string of pain I expected. It wasn't the agony of getting dragged back into my body, it was soothing and clear. _It's time to return now _and somehow I obeyed. I followed the sensations flowing through my body and the voice guiding me and suddenly I was sinking into his amazing warm eyes. Somehow I was back there in the room and my heart was racing and my skin tingling and my eyes were locked onto his. _

_But when he moved to touch me, I freaked. _Please! _I wanted to scream, don't ruin this, don't break this thing, don't hurt me, not now. But he merely wanted to check my pulse, I could have told him, why did need to touch me. _

_No one touches my bare skin, not even Hannah. She waits till I have my clothes on, even Harry grabs me by my hair or a strap of the harness. It felt strange after so long, painlessly burning, like all my nerves were firing, trying to save as much information as possible, trying to remember what is was like to be touched. _

_I wanted to grab him then, pull both those gentle hands into mine and run my palms against him, feel the roughness and warmth of his skin. But too soon it's over and he's rising, speaking about leaving, speaking about _home, _his home I realize, but he simply said home. Images of all the places I've called home flash across my eyes, locked closed now and growing cold, those images aren't helpful I tell myself. Follow him, I say, get into his car and sit quietly and when he asks you to do something, do it. Obey like you have been told to and never meet his eyes, never speak unless directly asked a question, never act unless instructed to do so. Obey! The words seared into my mind in raw and weeping letters, still they bleed. _

_**Chapter 3**_

When in public with a single guardian the Sera must be restrained, a strap attached to their harness is usually fastened to the belt of the guardian or to a place in which they can be monitored by the guardian.

It felt so strange to pull out that long lead from its unused packet and unroll it, feeling the tough seatbelt like fabric rub against my fingers. And to lean over, fasten it with the small lock to the metal ring in the middle of his lower back. There was another ring under his hair at the back of his collar, but I didn't even consider using that one, too dangerous and too much like an animal would need.

Reid for his part didn't even glance at it while I fastened it; he obviously was very used to this type of thing. I clipped the other end to my belt and I picked up the box. We left the office then with me leading the way. I didn't miss the looks from my team as I walked past them and out to the lift. This wasn't the time to introduce them, tomorrow would be fine, now Reid just needed to eat and sleep.

He was quiet as we walked out to the car, not that I expected him to speak, but the silence was still strange when I was sure his mind was running full pelt. But his body was acting perfectly, a single step behind me and to the left, he was close enough to reach if I needed to but not imposing on my space and he match my pace perfectly. How many hours and reprimands had it taken for him to learn that skill I wondered cynically.

I opened the door to my car and unclipped the strap, refastening it to the hand-hold on the ceiling of the car. I would need a better place to fasten it I noted to myself. I put the box in the back and shut the boot. It wasn't easy driving in silence so I put on some music and tried to concentrate on the road. It wasn't a long drive but by the time we arrived home Reid was sleeping, his hands were clutched tightly together in his lap and a pained expression was on his face. Exhaustion had obviously won over; I wondered how long it had been since he had had a good night's sleep.

"Reid. You need to wake up now. We're here" I had opened the door and crouched beside the seat. He roused and without looking at me nodded. I stepped back to let him climb out before clipping off the lead. I rolled it up around my hand and unfastened it from his harness.

"When we are in the house, you won't need this. You can go anywhere within the house but you need to tell me if you want to go outside." I led him inside and gave him a short tour of the house. When we got to the spare room I led him inside.

"This is your room now. It's pretty plain but we can paint it and change the bed covers. You can decorate it anyway you like." I almost choked on the words, I was treating him like any other housemate, showing him the house and his room, telling him that he was free to use it as he liked. But the truth was that the bed had a metal frame designed to accommodate cuffs and straps, and there were locks on the door and window and he couldn't have missed the safety bars on the window. It was the best I could do though, there were regulations if I wanted to keep him here and these adjustments were done before I even knew him, I needed a room like this to keep my license valid. There was also nothing here with which he could hurt intentionally himself, in truth it was a very clinical room and I didn't go in here often.

"Let's get you some dinner" I said ushering him out of the room and closing the door behind us.

I sat him at the kitchen table and pulled out the ingredients.

"I haven't read your entire file yet, but I know that the medications you're on probably make you quite nauseous so I'm going to keep this a simple and plain as possible. If you can keep it down, tomorrow we'll try something more exotic." I got out some rice, chicken and vegetables and quickly pulled together a simple stir-fry with a small amount of sweet sauce.

We ate in silence. I was starting to grow very frustrated with it, so after I cleared away the dishes (he had only eaten half of his but I didn't comment) I sat him down and opened his file between us.

"We need to have a conversation about what is going to happen now. I need to get to know you, learn about the things not written in your file" I didn't feel ready for any of this, I didn't even know if I'd made the right decision about bringing him here. What if I caused more damage?

But now he was sitting in my kitchen scratching the inside of his own palm, I doubted he even realized he was doing it, but if he continued much longer he was going to break the skin. We needed to build some trust and the first step was getting to know him better, I knew it was unusual to want to speak with him in the manner but it felt right.

"I'm going to ask you some questions and I want you to give me truthful answers." He nods, "and I want you to look at me, meet my eyes when you speak." I added, to his obvious shock. It was against what we had both been trained to do but somehow that didn't matter, somehow it was the one thing of which I was sure.

"_and I want you to look at me, meet my eyes when you speak" He said _Look at me, _and my thoughts froze, my heart stopped. _Look at me and meet my eyes, _the words rang again and again through my ears. He wanted me to do what I most desired, but somehow I couldn't drag my eyes up from my hands. _

"_Look at me" he said again, more forceful this time. _

"_Reid. Look at me. You did it before, you can do it now, I'm not going to punish you" I can't I wanted to scream, I didn't mean to do it before, you don't know what you're asking me. The shaking was back, my breathing ragged and my heart racing. But the voices were quiet and before I realized it I was staring into those warm eyes and a smile was on his lips. _

"_Thank you" he said, not once breaking my gaze. "I can read about you from your file but I'd like to hear it from you. How old are you?"_

"_24" The word was out before I realized it but he didn't seem to mind, in fact he looked pleased. _

"_When were you born?"_

"_October 12, 1981"_

"_Where?"_

"_Las Vegas" The words just came instinctively, without thought, but also without fear and god that felt good. _

"_Is that where you attended school?"_

"_Yes, for school. I went to university in New York" _

"_What did you study?"_

"_Psychology, Math and Anthropology. I have three PhDs" I realized my mistake after I had spoken and waited for the shock on his face to turn into anger. After that I knew what would come. But it never did, he simply pulled my file close to him and began flipping through the pages hastily, he was quiet for a few tense minutes reading over my background information. A strange expression was on his face as he flipped the file shut._

"_Reid? When did the characteristics first appear?"_

"_I don't know…late" How could I explain it to him, how could be understand the fear I felt as a child watching his mother speaking to people who weren't there and wondering when they would start speaking to him as well. How can you explain the need to hide the truth, the fear that you are loosing your mind? How could I show him that moment when I couldn't hide it anymore and I fell finally, blindly, scraping my skin off with my nails trying desperately to crawl back into my own skin. I woke up in the training centre three days later with so many drugs in my system that I barely felt human. _

_He shook his head in disbelief and opened his mouth as if to question further, I couldn't handle that yet, I couldn't speak of that. I searched my mind for something to tell him, to give him something other to think of, some piece of information that would lead him away from this painful topic. _

"_Do you know where the term Sera comes from?" I asked him but continued before he could answer, "It's a colloquial term that first gained popularity during the early eighteenth century when people were starting to look at them no longer as witches and devils but as angels. They were nicknamed Seraphim as they displayed skills that were believed to be divine; they were always incredibly intelligent, empathic and seemed to not be bound to the physical world, like mere mortals. _

_When they took on another personality, it was believed that they 'fell' to earth, like the angels and were polluted with the sins of those they mimicked. The term 'free fall' was later added to describe the state in which neither the true identity nor the false one controlled the body, this state sometimes led to death and therefore it was believed that the person was lost to god and ended up in purgatory or hell. _

_The name was later shortened to Sera and the religious connotation was mostly lost except for the superstitious belief that a Sera can steal your soul or otherwise do you mental/spiritual damage if they touch or look at you." From the look on his face, I had succeeded in distracting him well, he looked almost amused. _

"_I didn't know that. Thank you for explaining it to me."_

"_You're welcome" I said nervously. Still I fought the urge to look away, but it was easier when I didn't have to think about what I was saying._

"_Well, it's getting late and you look like you're about to drop, we'll continue this tomorrow. The rules say I have to check your body over before bed each night so I suggest we go to the bathroom and afterwards you can have a shower" I nod, I hate this part, Harry didn't always bother with it, but I could tell already that Hotch was a man who took his responsibilities seriously. _

_I could understand the logic of the checks, Seras didn't always realize then they had injured themselves, disconnection from the body was part of the problem, acceptance of pain as an everyday reality was the other. _

_He stood at the edge of the room, obviously a little embarrassed, as if he was the one who had to strip. I stood there for a minute waiting for him to realize that I couldn't undress without his help; the harness was locked on and he had the keys. Soon enough he realized the problem and pulled out the keys apologetically and set to undoing the straps. He gathered up all the pieces in a pile on the bench but stopped at my metal collar. _

"_I'm not meant to remove this, but I want to have a look at the skin under it." He said unclipping it and holding it in his hand. I felt a strange urge to grab it from him and hold it tight to my chest. This was the first time it had ever been removed since the day it had been fastened around my neck. It was a type of titanium chain-mail, which was loose enough to push a cloth under it but not loose enough to move around much on my neck. I had hated it then, now it felt like a piece of me was missing, I was standing completely clothed in my coveralls. I felt naked. _

_He stood behind me and unzipped the coveralls. I held my breath. But he stopped just below my shoulder blades and stepped back to allow me to pull it the rest of the way down. I stepped out of the suit, and waited for instructions. He was silent with a menacing look on his face, something had angered him but he didn't act on it, instead he took the suit from my hands and placed it in a wicker basket by the door. _

"_This is for dirty your clothing," he said indicating the basket._

_He didn't specify that I should remove my underwear so I didn't, I just started the exercises that I had been taught to prove that I was fine. I stretched out each arm, leant over, bent my knees and raised myself up on my tiptoes, among others. But he didn't react. He watched passively, something was on his mind. _

_But when I began twisting my wrists he stopped me and grabbed my left wrist._

"_Stop" he ordered and I did shifting nervously as he felt around the joint and down the bone. _

"_Why didn't you tell me you'd hurt your wrist?" I though about that statement for a minute confused. I didn't realize I'd hurt it. I tried to think back over the last few days to when I could have injured it, maybe when Harry yanked me by that wrist's cuff when I had been too slow getting out of the car, maybe it was when I had fallen over in the lobby yesterday when he had led me angrily out of the FBI office, he had been walking to fast and the lead had pulled me off balance. It could have been any one of a number of occasions. I knew the bruises scattered all over my body spoke of the roughness with which I was often treated. _

"_Take a shower but don't use your left hand. I want to bandage it up after you finish showering." He walked out then, quickly, almost slamming the door in his haste. _

I could almost taste my fury. His body was covered in bruises, more than could ever be expected from clumsiness, even from a Sera. I recognized enough to know that it wasn't intentional abuse that had caused the marks, but someone had been very rough with the physically fragile young man. Most of the marks probably came from being pushed or dragged; they weren't done to cause pain. If they had wanted to cause pain, they had a more effective and impossible to observe method at their disposal. I'm sure they used it regularly.

I'd fought the urge to touch him, feel his tender skin for injuries below the surface. I didn't want to scare him but when I saw his wrist ringed in almost black bruises and swollen I almost swore, cursing the bastards who had done this. Don't overreact I had to remind myself, he doesn't realize how bad it is, don't scare him.

I took a breath and told him to shower, minding the wrist and walked out, any more time looking at that too thin frame, pale and hurting and I would snap.

"Yeah, I know. It's not something I ever imagined myself doing either" I replied, flipping through the file to get to the medical section.

"Thanks for agreeing to see us so soon! I know you don't usually treat Sera. I just have one more question, these medications he's on, the side effects are pretty bad and he's on what looks like a strangely high dosage. Can I reduce the dosage tonight before I we come in tomorrow? Or will that be too dangerous?"

"I see. Ok thanks. See you tomorrow then" I hung up the phone. Dr. Michael Harris was one of the most acclaimed psychiatrists in the country though he still practiced as a physician to a select few patients he'd treated before he moved into psychiatry I was one of the lucky few who could call him a friend and I needed one now.

Reid had finished his shower and gathering up the spare pair of pajamas I'd found I pushed open the door and placed them on the bench.

"These are for you. We'll get you some new ones tomorrow" he pulled the pants on awkwardly obviously trying not to use his left hand as I had instructed. I stopped him before he attempted to pull on the shirt.

"Let's deal with that wrist first" I said picking up a bandage I'd brought in with me.

"I called a Doctor friend of mine while you were showering. He's agreed to see us tomorrow morning before work. He told me to bandage your wrist tonight and they'll x-ray it tomorrow to see if you've broken it." I told him while carefully circling his wrist and hand with the bandage.

"Is this too tight?" When he didn't reply I tried again, "Reid, is this too tight?"

"no" he whispered. Suddenly he looked exhausted, I mentally berated myself for not putting him to bed earlier. He'd been exhausted at the office and here I was dragging him through dozens of hurdles to quench my own anxiety. I nodded.

"Ok, let's get you to bed then." I helped him pull the shirt on, careful not to touch him and led him to his room. I let him settle on the bed before reaching for the drug kit.

"I have to give you the full dose tonight. It's a lot but Dr. Harris said that you need to stay at the same dosage they kept you at until he can examine you." I pulled out the vials; four different drugs were to be given before he went to sleep each night, one injected directly into the blood stream. It seemed that they didn't trust him with pills. I scowled, with dosages this high, I probably wouldn't want to swallow them either.

I filled the needles quickly and gave him the shots, I couldn't help but feel guilty when he almost instantly swayed and slid unconscious onto the mattress. I was thankful that I had had the forethought to pull back the covers before sitting him on the bed. I slip his feet up and under the rest of the covers before clipping the cuffs attached to the end of the bed around his ankles. I pulled the rest of the bedspread over his chest and turned off the light. I sent up a prayer to whoever was listening that his dreams would be kind that night.


	2. Chapter 2

I'm not one who usually has trouble sleeping but as I lay tossing and turning, images of the day denied me rest

I'm not one who usually has trouble sleeping but as I lay tossing and turning, images of the day denied me rest. I spent hours analyzing my own actions, trying desperately to understand just why I had felt the need to put myself in this position, to step blindly into this obviously difficult and saddening story. It wasn't like I hadn't worked with Sera before; I had, for years, brought them in on cases. I couldn't really believe that I was unselfish in my desire to keep him close, something inside me simply saw him and said_, he should be yours_. And why not? He was a gifted and useful addition to the team. But why had I insisted on private guardianship? The questions ran over and over again in my mind, why did I want him so badly?

And as the curtains became framed with light I rose numbly knowing less than I had when I had lain down for the night. Dawn brought no illumination beyond the fact that, yes, once again I must face the day.

He was still asleep when I entered his room; he lay on his stomach facing out towards the room. I could see the scar that ran from his hairline down his neck for about three inches. It wasn't obvious like some of the ones I'd seen on other Sera but still the fact that someone had sliced the skin open, pushed back the tendons and down his spine threaded the implant that cause such agony for this gentle young man. It horrified me.

He looked peaceful enough though and the wrist I'd been so enraged about last night looked less brutal in the placid morning light. I didn't want to wake him yet but as I watched he began to grow restless, his eyes darting about behind his closed eyelids. He started muttering softly and finally when he reached up to brush his fingers along the scar I decided to wake him. Whatever the dream was, it couldn't be good if it was associated with that.

I touched his shoulder shaking him softly

"Reid, time to wake up" I whispered soothingly, and as I reached over to full back the covers I was greeted by his hand instead encircling my own

"Spencer, please call me Spencer" he said with a voice still sleepy and one look at his face I could see that me was half awake. Here in this state his training had apparently slipped a little. I wondered then why I had been calling him Reid all this time, I knew his name was Spencer but somehow once I saw 'Reid' written on his collar it had stuck.

"Of course, Spencer. I'm sorry I didn't use it before. My name is Aaron." I could tell he was pleased by the way he grasped my hand stronger.

"Aaron" he tried it out and smiled slightly. "From the Hebrew. Generally thought to mean lofty, exalted, high mountain. Biblically, Aaron was Moses' older brother (and keeper by God's command). He was first high priest of the Israelites, remembered for the miraculous blossoming of his staff or rod."

"You really know a lot of trivia"

"I know a lot of everything" he said as if speaking to the blanket, and pulled back his hand nervously.

"I beginning to see that" I said trying to be reassuring. It's strange how accustomed we become to normal interaction, facial expressions, eyes meeting, hands touching. When you take all that away it's almost painful. It's almost obscene.

We went to the office first as we had a few hours to wait until the appointment. I pulled the lead out and clipped it to his harness, he wasn't allowed to go without it in open areas which included basically everywhere except my office and only then when the door was locked with a key.

Reid stood beside me in the elevator; his hands were clutched around the thigh bands he wore. It was evidently a familiar stance for him and he pulled at them slightly trying to shift them even though he knew that they wouldn't move even an inch. The harness had been measured for him exactly and while I didn't stop him moving about much, it wasn't very comfortable to wear. He would need some more comfortable clothes to wear under it and I should see if I couldn't get a more comfortable lining for the straps. I leant over and spoke to him quietly,

"I'm going to introduce you to the rest of the team. You probably saw them yesterday as we left. Don't worry I won't let them too close to you just yet, I'll give you time to adjust"

The elevator stopped before he had a chance to respond, not that I expected him to. We stepped out and were almost instantly met by curious stares from the others, only Gideon was absent, a glance though his open office door showed him sitting behind his desk working on some paperwork.

Not wanting to make a scene out here I almost snapped at them but bit it back, they're just curious I told myself.

"Meeting room in five, bring the case files" I ordered before any of them could speak.

I led Reid past them and up to my office; I resisted pulling him up when he submissively knelt on the floor by my desk. If he was comfortable there then who was I to tell him not to, I thought back over the last few days and marveled at why I was surprised. He had never sat on a chair that I hadn't placed him in myself, come to think of it; he hadn't even touched anything that I hadn't given it to him or instructed him to touch it.

I groaned inwardly, this was going to take more work that I ever imagined and even if I did succeed in teaching him to feel comfortable enough to do those things, he wouldn't be allowed to do them in public anyway, protocol demanded that much and more.

"I'm going to introduce you to them in a few minutes, they'll take a bit of time getting used to having you around. But give them time, they're good people."

When no response came I sighed and stood up, gesturing him to follow. The lead gathered back up in my hand from where I had clipped it to the bolt in the floor.

When we entered the room moments later, the others had already seated themselves and were chatting animatedly.

" It's just so out of character…" JJ trailed off as I came in.

"Okay, everyone I'd like to introduce you to Reid our new full-time Sera. He will be accompanying us on all cases and I expect you all to treat him with the same respect you have for anyone on the team." I purposefully sit him down at the chair closest me and before I can decide what to do with the lead Gideon gestures that he'll take it, I smile at him gratefully and he nods with his usual knowing look.

"We've got two bodies to find. We've all heard the latest riddle and now that Johnson has skipped across the border, we've only got this much to go on. I suggest we go over the evidence again and see if we can't add some more to the profile. What does this riddle mean? What was he referring to?"

It's so hard to not look at Reid as I discussed the riddle; it had been him that provided it only two days ago and I knew the others were itching for me to use his skills again. But experience told me that unless we learn more about Johnson, using Reid will get us no further than last time.

I hand out the files and make sure I pass an extra one to Reid whispering to him as I do.

"Try not to fall, don't read it if you can't." I doubt he'll get much from the file but giving him one is a purposeful show of equality, I want to remind them that while Sera aren't equal in normal life, in here where I'm in charge, Reid will be treated equally.

We begin to walk through the profile then painstakingly going over the evidence one piece at a time. We don't do this often and it's a process that is both frustrating and often useless. But at this point, it's all we have left. The parents of the girls are ambassadors from Russia and pressure from many sides means that no new cases can be opened until we at least find their bodies.

Two hours roll past and slowly we're all growing frustrated until finally Morgan snaps and suggests what I'm sure they're all thinking.

"Look we've got a Sera right here; it's worth a try seeing if he can't help"

I sign inwardly but know that this request is a fair one, as much as I hate to admit it. It looks like it's going to be our only choice.

"Fine" I say through gritted teeth, "lets get this over with." I walk over to Reid and crouch down beside him ready to ask him to stand up when I hear him whisper almost imperceptibly.

"Mills Point"

"What?" I ask confused.

"The girls are buried at Mills Point?"

"Johnson?" I ask worried, if Reid's fallen already I'm going to need to restrain him and he's going to fight and probably hurt himself.

"No, it's me. But I think they're buried at Mills Point" _he thinks? _

"Why do you think that?"

""Below the earth but above the water. Where the wild flowers bloom blue and white. Where horses don't go but children spend their hours screaming. Here" He shows us a map of the area, "It's above the water table and Lake Barrinjong but if the girls are buried then they're underground. The Bluebonnet (_Lupinus texensis_) is known to bloom in the area. It's too steep and the rocks too unstable for horses to climb. And one of the witnesses you interviewed, Miss Kassandra Hall, said that when she was a child, she and Hannah used to climb to the point and yell out over the ranges there as it's perfect for echoing, I believe it's known among the children as screaming point." We were silent, absolutely flawed. He'd managed to piece together what none of us had managed after just a few hours and done so without needing to fall. I fought the proud smile that threatened at the edges of my lips.

"Ok, I'm convinced. It should take us under an hour to get there if we leave now. JJ can you call the local PD and get them to meet us here. Good work Reid, I think it's a solid analysis"

We pack up silently but I can tell the others are staring at Reid, the questions and comment tearing across their eyes but never reaching their lips. They know now is not the right time.

It had taken a little over an hour to arrive but within half that time we had found the grave. A little pile of rocks had been laid out, just like the others had been. And soon the forensic team had moved in to assess the scene. I'd called the doctor and pushed the appointment back but if we wanted to make it we had to leave.

I gestured to Gideon and he wandered over expectantly.

"I've got to go. I've made an appointment for Reid for a few tests and I want to be the one with him, not just some handler. Do you think you can manage without me?"

"Yes, we'll manage. Go with him and find out what you can to help him. With what he did today, I can tell why you chose him."

"It's strange but I feel like he chose me"

I nods meeting my eyes and almost looks like he wants to add more but doesn't say anything. Reid was standing behind me looking over the view; it really was a beautiful sight.

"Well I can tell you this much already, whoever his doctor before was, he was an idiot of the critically dangerous kind. I'm surprised the poor kid hasn't overdosed yet. As it is, I'm going to have to prescribe ridiculously high dosages just so he doesn't go through withdrawal, which believe me with the cocktail they have him on is seriously dangerous." Dr Michael Harris practically growled the words. I had never seen him so furious.

"So I was right? About the drugs"

"Yeah, you were. Those government doctors forget that they're dealing with people not machines. We're lucky though that your young man has only been in the program for eighteen months so his body hasn't become resistant to any of the drugs yet. When that happens, the alternatives aren't pleasant.

A Sera of his potency has probably only five or six years left before he goes insane, freefalls and doesn't ground or his body simply gives in. He's fragile Aaron, you need to realize this" I should nod, tell him that yes, I understand, but I can't, I can't accept that.

"Physically maybe" I start "but I've seen it in his eyes and by how hard he fights to connect with us, he's strong. He wants to be here, to survive. He doesn't want to just give up like so many of them do. Just tell me what I need to do to get him healthy, to get better"

Michael looks at me for a long moment as if assessing me, judging the best course of action. "You know I'm your friend and not just your doctor?"

"Yes of course"

"Then I want you to listen to me as a friend now. I know you want to help him, you've always been like that. But Aaron, you can't always help everyone, you do enough of that with your job. This boy is going to require your care all the time and that will not change no matter how much 'better' he gets."

"I know that. I'm not pretending this will be easy; just tell me what I need to do now. We'll talk about the long term when we get to that"

"Fine, if your really that determined." He almost bordered on the sarcastic

"I am"

"Well, the first thing you need to realize is that he's hardwired differently to us. His brain doesn't automatically produce the right chemicals for the situation or his body, usually when he's not falling he should be ok but he may get strange reactions from time to time. We'll do weekly blood tests to watch his hormone levels. But you'll have to watch him carefully as he might get reactions like adrenalin kicks and depressive swings. And I don't need to tell you that he needs to be supervised at all times in case he goes into free-fall or falls into a dangerous persona. You need to be ready to use the implant"

"No, I can't not unless I have to. Do you know what that thing does to him?" I straining not to let the viciousness I felt enter my voice, he's trying to help.

"Yes, of course I know but pain grounds him; we know for sure that they don't experience pain like normal people do. It's beneficial to him to experience it when needed, it grounds him." He could see that I was about to argue, but held his hand up, "You need to talk to him about it, ask him about pain and what it means for him. I know it's not protocol but like every patient is different, he is as well. You need to learn what he needs to experience to ground."

"I hate this, but yes you are right. I'll speak to him about it."

"Good! Actually physically he surprisingly hasn't got too many major problems apart from being chronically malnourished. Which is absolutely unforgivable, no one in 24 hour care should experience that. But what I can gather from his file is that he has ongoing issues with vomiting and nausea, reducing the level of medication will help but I think that we're going to need to watch what he eats carefully as I believe that food sensitivity probably plays a part. He could experience some serious problems if we don't get him back up to a healthy weight. I'll go over the basics with you and hopefully work out how we're going to help him gain weight.

He also has a diagnosis of epilepsy. While this isn't surprising as it is common among Sera, it appeared to get worse with the higher doses of medication. As I reduce the dosage, let's hope the seizures become less frequent. Other than that, the bruises are fine and should heal normally. His wrist isn't broken, just badly sprained. I've bandaged it but there isn't much else to do except wait for it to heal.

It says in his file that he has an eidetic memory. Do you know how rare that is? I shouldn't be surprised I guess; Sera are always exceptional. It's in their genetics. Did you know that they are going to start testing newborns for the gene now? I really don't know how I feel about that." He looked at me like he wanted to say more but didn't go on, I knew that he disapproved of the government's treatment of Sera.

"Me neither. But thank you so much, I need all the help I can get" He smiled at me.

"I know it doesn't sound like I care much for him, but he truly is a remarkable young man Aaron. Care for him like you've been trained to do. Try to open him up a bit, get him to talk a bit more and bring him in for regular checkups."

"When he trusts me more, I'd like to start to work on breaking some of his conditioning"

"Are you sure that's such as good idea?" he looked a little shocked.

"No, but it's the only way he's ever going to get truly better. It's not going to be easy on him but if it's possible I'd like to try."

He was sitting on the floor of the exam room when I entered, the hospital gown drawn over his knees as far as it would go. He was scratching his nails down the inside of his thighs.

I sat down on the floor next to him and tried to still my breathing, he looked panicked and I didn't want to alarm him further. Finally after a few minutes had past I whispered to him, willing him silently to hear the concern in my voice.

"Spencer?" Fighting to urge not to touch him lest it scares him further. "Can you tell me what's wrong? Did something happen?" Sitting quietly for a few moments I listen to his breathing quicken further and his scratching grow more frantic.

"I want to help you but I need to know what's wrong. Has something scared you? Speak to me, please"

"n…nothing happened, I just…" he's fighting to speak, I know that he wants to so I prompt him to go on,

"Just what?"

"I just hate it here, I hate hospitals, I hate tests and I hate…" he dies off, the fight to make himself understood loosing to his training to remain silent.

"Okay, I understand, we're going now. I'm sorry I brought you here, I just needed to know how healthy you were and how to help you. But I'll try not to bring you back here unless I have to" He nodded silently and looked hopefully towards the door. It was then that I saw that he was crying silently, his eyes red and sore, he'd obviously been crying for most of the time I'd left him for the tests.

What sort of people would let him cry while running tests? I asked myself horrifies. Here in a facility designed to improve the quality of life, they led a fragile young man sobbing openly through various painful and difficult examinations before leaving him distraught all by himself, ignoring his basic need for human contact. Again and again it was proven to me how very cruel we are.

"Can I touch you?" another nod, I picked up some tissues from the table, to dry his face. Taking his chin in my hand and holding his face up to the light I saw his whole face for the first time. Before this I had seen only glimpses, partial views shielded by a curtain of hair, but now under the harsh florescent lights, his face was clear to me. Pale and a little withdrawn, he was still the most beautiful man I had ever seen and no matter how much I told myself that it didn't count, the face that he needed me desperately to help him only enhanced that beauty. It made him mine somehow.

His breathing was becoming jagged and I could tell that he was drifting.

"Spencer! Look at me. Breathe alone with me, match your breathing with mine and you won't free-fall." I held his jaw then, scooting further forward until my face was inches away from his and held his gaze. Somehow this helped, I don't know why but every time our eyes met he had grown calmer and more manageable and I intended to take advantage of that fact.

_And there he was, his hands on either side of my neck, holding me so I couldn't look away and somehow it was okay. Somehow the needles, the drugs, the pain, the tests, the clinical phantoms that hovered over me for so long backed off slightly. Somehow it wasn't terror I felt, but release, he was holding me still and in stillness I almost felt catharsis. I couldn't escape that gaze and it was fine, I was fine and able to breathe again. _

_We sat there for a long with him whispering to me softly, commanding me gently. And somehow, somewhere, something broke, and screaming filled my ears howling, begging and moaning filled that small room. And I was looking then at the wall behind him, the doorway and the hall as nurses ran into the room pulling out draws and filling up needles. I wondered why, confused what had I done? _

_But his voice was there reassuring me, too close, it was like he was speaking inside my head. And I couldn't move, somehow I was rocking back and forth, my vision swinging wildly. Why was that sound so loud? _

We sat there for a long time while he slowly met my breathing pattern and calmed down. His eyes bore into mine for what felt like hours. And I dared not break the gaze, he looked so lost then, rubbing his own wrists for comfort. He looked almost dazed.

But suddenly something seemed to snap and he was in my arms, sobbing, screaming and I held him, pulled him almost entirely into my lap as he yelled incoherently. I knew that this screaming would get unfortunate attention. I shifted him so that his head rested on my shoulder and rocked him slightly speaking reassuring words. I had expected this, but not so soon.

I heard footsteps behind me approaching fast.

"Don't come any closer! We're fine, he just needs to calm down"

"Mr Hotchner. Protocol says…"

"I know what it says. He's just upset. Give us some privacy, if he's still screaming in five minutes then you can come back!" I had to speak loudly to pierce the moaning coming from Spencer. I started rocking him again back and forward, ignoring the uncomfortable position we'd taken on the floor.

"You need to calm down or she'll back.

I know you need to cry but this isn't the place.

Let's go home and I'll run you a bath. You can relax and we'll talk.

I'm so proud of you, you did great today!

Come one, shhh…" My words became almost as incoherent as his but eventually he stilled and fell silent. He grew stiff in my arms, almost shocked to find himself wrapped around me. He flung himself back. And kneeling placed his head to the floor in front of me. Position 1, I recalled it from the obedience classes. He was silently begging me not to punish him.

Sighing, I awkwardly heaved myself off the floor. Pulling the lead out I fastened it to the clip at his lower back and yanked it up, the sign for him to rise. He needed the rules now I knew; it was the only way I was going to get him out of here without sedation. I don't speak to him as I lead him out to the car; silence is safe for him, he doesn't need to fight the training. And I really needed him to feel safe.


	3. Chapter 3

My heart is racing, colliding with my nerves till I'm almost paralyzed but somehow I continue to walk, continue to breathe, continue to exist

_My heart is racing, colliding with my nerves till I'm almost paralyzed but somehow I continue to walk, continue to breathe, continue to exist. I almost wish I could free fall now, let that cold and nothing place take over for a while. _

_And Hotch is cold, hard and silent. _

_And the voices are shattering, jumbled, parallel and scaring._

_And sometimes I wish I could just see them, like Mum did, face them and tell them to leave me alone. But I can't, they're there, around me, whispering over my shoulder, in my ears. Hiding just out of sight, like ghosts, horrifying, somethings that aren't human, aren't alive. Care for nothing._

_And each time I fall they gather force, another for the ranks of the damned!_

_And my feet keep walking, my body moving at the right pace._

_And Aaron, Hotch, that someone who finally looked, that someone who finally gave me icy fragile hope is going to shatter it._

_And my feet keep walking, till I reach the car and climb in._

_And my lungs keep breathing as we pull away from the curb._

_And fear rattles around my body. _

I don't speak as I drive him home. It's been a hard day, the scene at the hospital only adding to my tension. I just want to climb in bed with a good book and forget about the day. But, I remind myself, the reason for the success and heartache is still sitting beside you with his hands in fists so tight that it must be painful. I want to pound the steering wheel, I've never been a particularly violent man but on occasion it feels good to let out some physical stress.

I pull the car into the garage and unclip the strap. I lead him into the kitchen and resist the urge to pull him up off the floor when he kneels. I mentally berate myself, he needs time to work through his pain, asking him to fight the training will only make him more confused. But when he falls again into position 1, I muffle a groan. He's never been like this before now! He thinks he's going to get punished I suddenly realize.

I mentally sift through the list of command words I'd leaned and chose the least uncomfortable I could think of.

"Up, position 4" I commanded and relaxed slightly as he easily shifted to sit cross-legged with his hands in his lap.

That was until I saw the blood. Deep red and smeared across the floor where his palms had pressed into the tiles.

"God!" I gasped and reached for his hands, holding tighter as he tried to pull away defensively. There on each palm weeping small pools of blood were four crescent shaped wounds.

_I tried to pull away, I tried to avoid that touch but he was too fast, too strong. Grabbed me by the wrists and forced me up off the floor, he was saying something but the screaming of the nobodies in my ears were louder and the feel of my heartbeat pounding out all feeling. _

_I wanted to scream, cry, beg him not to punish me. I hadn't meant to! _

_But I was soon being brought towards the bathroom, my feet dragging heavily on the wooden floor. I was shaking, I could feel it but not prevent it, and as the door shut behind us I almost jumped at the sudden sound. _

_Why here? I wanted to know, what punishment would need a bathroom? And involuntarily my mind began to list them, the legal and the illegal (but not persecuted ones)…too many! _

_He pushed me back, guiding my hips till I was sitting on the edge of the bath, one hand still holding my wrists out in front of me._

_With the other he reached out and took hold of my chin, forcing me to face him…to see finally his anger and disgust, I knew I couldn't. I fought against him a little, refusing to at him; instead I focused on the tiles behind him. _

"_Breathe"._

_It was an order. I dragged in a breath, feeling lightheaded at the rush of oxygen I didn't know I'd even been missing. _

"_And again" His voice was firm and clear. I did breathe then, long deep breathes. At least he was considerate; maybe he wouldn't punish me too hard. I felt a small hope light up the back of my mind. _

_Every part of me screamed to get into position, to show my submission. Except the voices, some of them were screaming for murder. _

_But he waited, minutes passed as he watched me breathe. I couldn't see his face clearly but as he didn't move, I dared not either. So stayed there with him crouching in front of me holding my wrists and ordering me to breathe. _

_And when he finally moved away I was breathing, calmly and ready for what was to come, resigned but ready._

_Bit when the pain came it was barely noticeable, I hissed but stilled. Surprised I looked at the site of the pain and saw that he was wiping my palm with a white cloth that was brown from what smelled like antiseptic. My mind drew blank._

_My palms? _

_And then I saw the blood welling up from the cuts. I had done that, I knew. I used to do it so often in the beginning, before I knew when to stop before I did noticeable damage. When I had been brought in, I was covered in self-inflicted superficial injuries, just like these. Each was catalogued and photographed and doctors told me that without their help, I would soon grow to do myself permanent damage or even kill myself. But that was before, that was when scratching a line down the outside of my thigh with the prongs of a fork really did help, now that barely touched the need. The need to feel myself in my own skin, my body. _

_And then he was wrapping my hands in gauze and a fine bandage. _

_And pulling me up towards the kitchen, where he turned two seats around to face each other. We sat then letting the silence drag between us, I unable to speak and he trying to find words for what was raging behind his carefully composed expression. _

"_Spencer, I need to you speak to me about this." He said taking my now bandaged hands in his "I need to understand. You need to explain to me what pain means to you."_

I held both his hands in mine, skin against skin. Silently willing him to


	4. Chapter 4

Its gonna hurt

Its gonna hurt  
And I love the pain  
A breeding ground for hate but...  
Im not, not sure,  
Not too sure how it feels  
To handle everyday  
Like the one that just past  
In the crowds of all the people

'Miss you love' by Silverchair

I held both his hands in mine, skin against skin. Silently willing him to answer, to even acknowledge the question. I waited silently, letting the minutes pass, he would speak when he was ready.

He sat looking at his palms bandaged white. He begins in an almost whisper…

"I could tell you the statistics on self-harm among Sera, they're listed as n at risk group in almost every country. The United Nations describes them as one of the most vulnerable groups in society and allows for their removal from family and society placement in 'care' as standard. It is the only group in society not allowed the right of freedom. The basis of this decision is that every known Sera has a history of self-harm which escalates and on occasion has resulted in death. And as much as I hate to admit it, for me it was no different.

It started four years ago. I'd wake after what felt like a deep sleepless night with scratches down my forearms or across my thighs. I could feel it then, in the moments before I fell asleep, the shift. Most people have felt it at some point, like you are physically falling and when you suddenly wake you feel a jolt through your body. And your thoughts are barely logical, barely remembered. It's like that when you fall, your thoughts stop making sense, they take on a dream-like quality and for a while you can think in tandem with another, watch their thoughts roll across your mind. Then you are gone and they are in control. It was an instinctual thing, to stop myself falling, to give myself something to hold on to in my own body.

It stopped feeling bad, and started to be a relief, a connection to my body, even good. I felt more alive when I was in pain. I still feel it, it still helps.

But not this pain from the implant. It's not physical, it's not real. I can't see the bruises, or run my hand across the marks. It's harder to connect, impossible to find relief in. It's not my pain. It's not my body."

He's shaking now with the effort but in a last effort drags his eyes up to meet mine.

"I'm not that strong. I know that by the time I was caught it was getting worse. But I also know that this is not better" He raises his hand and runs his fingertips along the scar shuddering.

"I can't speak of this thing without feeling the need to drop to my knees and press my forehead to the floor. It haunts my thoughts with echoes of unreal pain. It's a thousand fold what I find relief in. It's agony and I can't escape it"

He's holding my gaze, still and pale as death but strong, willing himself to open up. I'm in awe.

"I promise you. I will never use it unless I have no other option, unless you risk free falling. We'll try something else.

You say physical pain helps. But I can't let you hurt yourself like this" I take his hands in mine, showing him his own hands.

"This isn't safe."

He nods, lowering his eyes again and letting his head drop enough to send that curtain of hair across his face.

I reach over and brush it back behind his ears. I place my hand under his chin and lift his head up level to mine.

"I know this is hard. But I will help. We'll work it out together and if it gets too hard, then I will give you what you need. I am somewhat experienced in giving consensual pain"

I meant it too, I couldn't let him hurt himself but I could do it. I could punish his body to help his mind.

I had done it before for others, for far less noble reasons. He looks as me shocked and then just as suddenly looks away, in his eyes I saw for a second something, terror certainly but also something else, need?

"Spencer, I want you to know that I want to help you break the conditioning. I know that you'll never be free of the system, but I want to help you at least have some choice over your actions. I hope that we can find a way to give you back some control over this ability you have. We'll work it out together"

I run my fingers along his jaw as I pull my hand away, feeling the soft skin of his neck. I push back the arousal curling in the back of my mind and can't help asking myself if my need to have him close was really so honorable after all.

"Please, I'd like to sleep now," he almost begs, I can tell he's distressed but there is little I can do to calm him.

"Spencer, you haven't eaten yet. We don't need to speak further, I'll make us some dinner and then you can sleep"

That night after I put him to bed, I sat watching him. The drugs still too strong to allow him natural sleep, I could give myself the luxury of watching him without fear of waking him. He looked peaceful, unreserved and open, so unlike his waking self. I couldn't help but wonder who this young many was before all this. Had he been a normal teenager, getting drunk and kissed for the first time? What had he lost? Could I give him anything back, anything more? Would I be allowed?

"We've got a new case. The locals have asked for our assistance with narrowing down their list of suspects. Which we'll do and then send back our findings. There are three dead women, all mothers, all white, all mid thirties. Each murder took place in a late night bus station. We are needed to profile the case and either shorten the list or if possible suggest a suspect. They've sent over all the evidence including case files on each of the people who were present in the station at each of the murders, over 120 people. I need each of you to take a pile and try to eliminate some of the people before we begin looking at the files as a group."

I handed out a stack to each, making sure Gideon and I took the heaviest load.

"We'll gather back in an hour to present a profile. Then we'll begin sorting out the suspects"

I take Reid with me back to my office, he's been quiet all morning, well he's quiet normally but now he's withdrawn. I begin to worry that maybe he's not feeling well.

I sit him down, I still have to guide him into a chair each time or he'll sit on the floor. He doesn't react as I prick his finger with the test kit. To my frustration, he's lower than the needed dosage.

"I'm sorry Spencer, but I need to give you a shot" He grimaces a little but offers his arm.

Measuring out the minimum I lean over and as carefully as possible empty the contents into his bloodstream. Almost immediately he pales a little and leans forward. I wait trying to gauge his reaction, with drugs this potent, it can be quite difficult to get the right amount.

He pales further and falls forward, fortunately I'm quick enough to catch him and guide him to the ground, shifting the trash can under his mouth, he looses his breakfast. I pull his hair out of the way and rub circles across his back. Considering that this is only the third time it's happened since he's arrived, I'm not too worried. But it can't go on like this, I make a mental note to speak to Michael about finding something to deal with the nausea associated with Amsatheirine.

I take him into the bathroom and help him clean up before dumping the contents of my trash can down the toilet and washing it out in the sink.

"Don't worry about it. We'll give it half an hour and then I'll get you something to eat that won't upset your stomach"

_He's acting so normal, as if he didn't just splinter me into so many broken pieces. As if he doesn't see my need splayed out in front of him. If only. I want to tear away from his presence, to be alone for the finally after so many months of never being alone. I want to talk and talk and talk. And ask questions and laugh. God I miss laughing. I just want to be alone so I don't need to obey that fucking protocol. That piece of me that was ruined, that was beaten into submission so many times that it now feels natural. _

_And I want him to touch me, to wake up my numb body just enough that I can feel again. Something more than a creature. _

_And he offered me that. In those few words he offered me something to help me cope and feel. He offered to help. _

_And then the panic stuck and I wanted to escape his presence. The only way to do that was through sleep or falling. I chose sleep._

_ Until that is morning came and hours pass and I find myself in the familiar situation of heaving and retching, trying desperately to breathe while my body shakes with the effort of expelling the toxin. Failing of course because they are in my bloodstream and not my stomach. _

_But he's kind and firm. I find myself soon back at his desk with a stack of files in front of me. He's busy reading each before he hands it to me. I guess I'm not really surprised, it's not like I have a doctorate in psychology or anything, I can serve no purpose other than as a Sera I think cynically. Even he thinks that. _

_Finally he hands me the first file, a woman, young and well known locally. I almost immediately disregard her. The next and the next is passed over to me and each I disregard in sequence. _

_But something isn't right, the voices are louder now. They're murmuring has turned to howling and I'm fighting to not flinch at each demand they make. I open the next file and place my hands open on the desk on each side of the file. I press them down hard, desperate not to give in to the temptation. _

_But as I begin to read I can feel it, the fall. This man is the murderer, I can feel him in my mind, humming nothing tunes as he work, stretching a cable around their necks. I want to vomit again, to warn Hotch, tell him to be careful, this man is angry and everyone and everything. But I can't, I can feel myself slipping, the Amsatheirine has worked, I have no control left to resist. I manage a moan before I loose control, the darkness and nothingness engulfing me, locking me out of my own mind. _

I hear Reid moan before suddenly he's on his feet growling across the table at me.

"Hello Fairy, faggot freak! Come to take me away have you?" He laughs, a deep bitter sound, no what I would expect from the gentle youth. I look over at the picture on the front of the file he had been reading, a big man. John Carter, I recalled from my own reading of the file.

"Carter," I state warily. Reid isn't restrained or and my door isn't locked. _Damn_

"Yep, that's me!" He says glaring at me, "Don't even think about touching your gun or I swear I'll kill you." He's holding the letter opener I keep on my desk. Could I have been more stupid!

He crosses the space between us and holds the blade to my neck. I feel the weight of the remote heavy in my pocket, if only I could reach it. Growling under his breathe.

"Give me your cuffs,"

This is my chance I realize, I purposefully fumble a bit shifting my coat pocket with my arms so that I can touch the remote inside as I reach back for the cuffs. I feel it clumsily with my finger tips before pressing down hard on the emergency activation key.

A piercing scream rings out across the office and Reid falls to his knees in front of me, dropping the blade to reach up around his body. He curls tightly into a ball, shaking uncontrollably as he screams himself hoarse. I turn it off as soon as I can but the emergency activation is set for twenty seconds.

So I sit and pull his twisted body into mine, holding him close as he cries echo across the office and bury themselves into my soul.

"I'm sorry," I tell him, "I'm so sorry! It's all my fault! I'm so sorry!"

I tell him over and over again, rocking him back and forth. My office door bursts open and Morgan is there followed by the others, his gun out and aimed at us.

"Wait!" I tell him, "It's ok now."

He's stopped screaming and is now sobbing silently into my arms. We must look strange to them, crouched on the floor as I comfort the distraught man.

"That file, Carter. He's the killer. Reid fell and proved it" I point to the file sitting on my desk.

"Call the local police on the case and tell them" I point to the door and make it clear that I expected them to leave. Which they do, all except for Gideon.

He approached slowly, carefully and crouches down in front of us.

"He'll need to sleep now. Lock the bindings together and we'll put him on your couch." I nod, thankful for his assistance. Together we fasten his wrists, thighs and ankles together and pull him up onto the couch. He's awake but not very lucid. He soon drifts of into a troubled sleep.

I shake my head, this could have gone so much worse. As it is I'm going to have to do some quick talking to make sure he isn't taken back for training or assigned another guardian. I sit back down at my desk and put my head in my hands miserable.

Gideon sits down across from me and waits till I gain back my composure.

"We need to talk"

"They thought I was a possible Sera as a child"

I turned stunned, not sure what to say.

"This was before the genetic test when they used the characteristics to determine diagnosis I was twelve when they decided to start testing and I spent the next ten years trying to prove my own normalcy. It's not something many people know but I think you need to know this. But this conversation stays between us."

"God Gideon, of course! I had no idea"

"No one does, it's in my file of course but it's not something I speak about casually. It wasn't an experience I wish for anyone. That's why I'm speaking to you about it now, I stood back when you decided to keep this Sera but now after this episode, I know that you need my help, you need to understand that what they tell you about the Sera isn't always true. He fell, do you know why?"

"No, I mean, he was reading over the old files, trying to get an insight into the process"

"Was this case the first one he read that was unsolved?"

"Yes, why?"

"Because that's why he fell. That's why they always fall, the need for some justice"

"I don't understand"

"Did you ever wonder why they exist?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why this ability exists"

"I don't know, I guess it's just some kind of abnormality"

"There is a theory that Sera were the judges of early society. In Africa they still act in this role, tribesmen travel hundreds of miles to visit a 'shaman' who can tell solve their disputes as he can see the problem from everyone's point of view."

"Are you saying that they remember the experience?"

"I'm saying that they stay in control and don't fall completely. They can maintain their own personality as the dominant one while being able to know what the other is thinking and feeling. They can use that knowledge to form a judgment of the situation. They are so rare in our society but not so rare in tribal society and in developing nations, and it doesn't help that they were almost exterminated from the gene pool during the inquisition and witch burnings. They're basically a tool that we have no idea how to use so we capture them control them and in so many ways punish them."

"So you're saying that we have it all wrong?"

"I'm saying that we can't rely on protocol, on common wisdom here. You need to ask yourself whether you think what we have done to him has helped him or damaged him further."

"I know it's wrong, the way they're treated. But don't what else to do, no one does, that's why we continue with the system we have."

"Most people who aren't scared of them are too ignorant to know any better. We know what is possible; we just need to find out what will help him gain better control over it all."

"How?"


	5. Chapter 5

Everywhere, all I see is white and shattering convolutions across my body elicit small cries from me muffled by something filling my mouth

_Everywhere, all I see is white and shattering convolutions across my body elicit small cries from me muffled by something filling my mouth. I can't understand it, my mouth is dry and my limbs won't move. I can hear voices and movements but I can't move at all to see where they are coming from….and voices are speaking now. _

"_He's a 9.7. Very unusual for one brought in this late in life and with such a high score it's improbable that he could have lasted much longer on the outside. The surgery was a complete success and after a period of immobilization we can begin the treatments and training regime. For someone as powerful as him we need to prescribe very high dosages of both Amathiserine and various sedatives therefore we have decided to begin the initial sessions with high levels of accomanying neural stimulation."_

_I want to scream, I know what this means but I can't move against the bonds. I know these words, I've heard them before….please! I want to beg him, not again….I can't go through that again. _

...

He's screaming in his sleep, fighting the cuffs around his ankles and wrists. I curse myself for adding the wrist cuffs but it seemed necessary after what happened today. Obviously they are too much for him though and it's brought up some bad memories. I just wish he could have told me, he was so silent, so accepting when I fastened them to the frame of the bed. He simply climbed in and let me immobilize him almost completely. How could I be so stupid!

I sit by his side not sure how to wake him that won't scare him. Instead I lean over him carefully and undo the cuffs around him wrists. Then I move down and unstrap his ankles. He's still fighting to move as I pull back the sheet he's tangled himself in. He's drenched in a cold sweat and moaning. I'll have to change the sheets.

I shake him gently at first but them more harshly hoping to break him out of the dream.

"Spencer. Come on Spencer, wake up. You're dreaming". He's not responding; the drugs must be keeping him from waking easily. I can't let him lie there drenched and suffering so I slip behind him and ease him into an upright position speaking soothingly to him. I pull him up so his back it against my chest and brace myself for the inevitable struggle as I lean in close to his ear.

"Wake Up! Right Now!" he struggles slightly but I can see he's fighting to wake and just when I think he's going to slip back into unconsciousness he startles awake struggling to free himself from whatever he was dreaming about. He reaches around to scratch at his neck, a desperate moan escaping his lips. I grab his wrists and pull them away from his neck, without the wrist cuffs he probably would have scratched himself raw trying to get to the implant. He fights then bitterly for a moment, struggling to get away from me but I hold him against me, careful not to damage him. At least when he was awake he knew how futile it was to try but when he was like this, there was only the need to free himself, nothing more.

"Hey," I said whispering in his ear, "It was a dream. You need to calm down now, you're safe."

I recalled the protocol, when they are stressed; don't give them options, just reasons. He stills in my arms, waiting for me to act.

"I've released the cuffs. But you're drenched in sweat. So let's get you into a bath, warmed up and clean. Then we'll change the sheets."

He doesn't respond immediately, his drug clouded brain taking a long time to process my words. He's not up to speaking yet I guessed.

I let him lay back against me for a few minutes until his breathing slows. Slipping out from behind him I slip my arm around his back and pull him to his feet. He leans against me as we make our way to the bathroom. His bare feet slipping clumsily against the carpeted floor of the hallway, I almost have drag him along. Again silently cursing the doctors and their misguided 'treatments'.

I sit him down and run the bath, making sure to add some soothing oil to the water. He's still out of it as I ease him out of his clothes and into the warm water but leave his underpants on. He's shivering still so the hot water is a bit of a shock, as his feet touch the water he reaches out to grab at me instinctively. My heart warms a little, in this state his reactions are still to instinctively reach out to others for support, it's a small consolation but still something. If only I can get him to accept my contact just as readily during his waking hours.

I lay him back in the water and reach for the soap.

"I'm going to touch you now Spencer." I warn him, showing him the cloth and rubbing the soap into it. I begin on his hands, careful to wipe softly over the still healing cuts on his palms and the still bruised and healing wrist. I run the cloth up his arms to the elbow, slowly, holding his arms out so he can watch my movements. He's still to groggy to do this himself so I let him lay back and watch me with clouded but curious eyes. He's not watching my hands but looking at my face, I smile at him reassuringly and continue my task. I can't help but think he looks almost relieved, almost content as I slide the cloth across his chest. His feet are next and his shins, I clean all the way up to him thighs before abandoning the area. He can clean there in the morning himself, it would be too much for me.

Grabbing him by the shoulders I rest him against my own shoulder and clean his back before assisting him to lay back into the water and wash off all the soap. His hair, longer than is normal for a Sera halo's his head a little as the water moves around his body. I smile down at him, brushing away the hair across his face so that it too floats around him loose and a little wild. He looks so innocent there, almost angelic and with my hand supporting the back of his head I just sit there watching his eyes close as the warmth soaks into this body. He's not smiling but I can almost see what he might look like if he did. Again the questions cross my mind, who was this beautiful man before all this? If only I had met him then I could have acted on these feelings curling almost painfully in the base of my mind but as it is, he's under my care and too fragile to love in that way. If you want to love him, I tell myself, love him like a brother, love him and help him but don't damage him further by your selfish desires.

..0..0.0..0.0.0.

_The warmth is entering my bones, I can feel it soaking in. I just want to lay here, his arms supporting me, his face lined with worry and compassion. I just want to float here in this place forever with him._

_With his emotions, cascading around me like music._

_And I realize, finally I realize what I've unconsciously known since I first saw him. _He cares for me, wants to heal me and give me what I need to survive. _Somehow I can see that, somehow through the drugs, the darkness and terror I saw him there with concern clouding his eyes and clear voice telling the handlers to leave me be. He wouldn't hurt me but he could give me what I needed and it's won't hurt him to do it, he can love and hurt me and survive doing so._

_I didn't fall, I remember it all, I saw it, his thoughts, his emotions ran across my mind and in that drugged out, semi aware state I called to him. And the realization floors me._

_But the warmth is there and my hands don't work, my legs can't hold my body up. I can't speak to him as my muscles won't let me form words. I feel like I'm sinking under a grey hazy cloud. A filthy, medicated, sterile and bitter force is holding my body underwater and no matter how much I fight it the drugs are winning. All I can do is look up at his face and wonder at his cautious patience, his compassionate and ready awareness of my own broken state. If only he knew how very broken I was, apart from the drugs, apart from the handlers, apart from the characteristics, beyond all that I'm still as broken as when my mother first told me that ghosts were real and that horrors exist beyond my own dreams and that I believed her, I still do. _

_.0...0_

After what feels like days I ease him up, running my hand through his hair to drain most of the water. I pull the plug and let him sit there while the water drains away. His eyes are a little clearer now so I speak to him again hoping maybe this time he can respond.

"Let's get you up and dry,"

He nods, and I help balance him as he steps out of the water, my arm around his shoulders. He's back to refusing eyes contact so I know that he's stepped back into conditioned behaviors. It's a little disappointing to see that openness disappear but that's the price he pays for lucidity. I help him dry himself but leave as he dresses himself into the new set of pajamas. The sheets need changing and I can't bring myself to watch him naked.

I settle him back in bed, sitting down beside him with the cuffs in my hands not really sure what to do. Against everything I had been taught I turn to him ask him what he wants.

"I have to use some sort of restraints at night, I'm not in the room to monitor you so legally I should be using ankle and wrist cuffs on you incase you fall while you're asleep. But if they're causing you nightmares, I don't want to do that either. And this" I gesture to the raw skin at the back of his neck, "Can't be allowed to happen. Can I cuff your wrists and not your ankles? Will that cause you nightmares"

"Not nightmares, memories." He says almost in a whisper.

"What can I do?" I ask saddened. What can I do against the past? Then I realize, the rules say monitor him when he's not restrained. I toss it over in my mind, I could comfort him when he has nightmares, I could let him sleep without fastenings but can I face the reality of him being there, sleeping there beside me? _I can't!_

I sigh, "Come with me. You can sleep in my bed and then you won't need any restraints." He nods and follows me out of the room, his shoulders tense and wary.

I show him to the left side while I take the right, putting my back to him and turning off the light. I can hear him breathing beside me. Still dazed by the drug, he drifts off easily while I am left listening to him, aching, so close, so close to my back. And yet I can't even touch him. What will I do when he asks me for pain? I can't give him that without the tenderness, the closeness, the sexuality that has always accompanied that part of my life?

..

As dawn breaks gradually across the room I turn expecting to see him still sleeping but am met with clear purposeful eyes. He awake and looking directly at me. I'm afraid to breathe lest I .

"I've decided that I'm going to try and trust you." He says. "I have to try and trust someone and everything in me says that that person should be you. I can't say that I will always be able to or that I ever will be able to do it truthfully. But I'd like to try. I'd like to try because last night I realized that the first time I met you I saw who you were, somehow I fell without falling and I knew what I saw gave me the courage to speak to you."

"I…"

"Please don't speak yet. This is hard enough already and if you speak I don't think I will be able to say it."

I nod understanding just how hard this really must be for him.

"I want to tell you everything just so someone else knows. And I want you to know that I know about your pain as well. I felt it and I feel it still. It's there every moment I spend with you. We're both broken but I think, I hope…." He trails off, unable to continue.

"It's ok." I tell him, "I think I understand."

"Thank you for last night. Sometimes it feels like I never left the training centre. When I close my eyes, it's like I'm still there."

"Is that what you dreamed of, the training?"

"Yeah, I dreamed of the day after the implant was installed. When they started to give me 'neural stimulation' for the first time, that's what they called what the implant did to me, as if by giving it another name, it wouldn't still be torture. I was held completely immobile while the spinal surgery healed, with a tube down my throat I could barely scream while they 'adjusted it to the appropriate level'. It wasn't nearly the worst experience I had there but when you added the wrist cuffs I guess is triggered something in the memory." He spoke without emotion, his blank face betrayed only by the shaking of his hands as they gripped the covers. "I want to tell you about it all…but I can't not yet."

"It's ok. You're doing great. Tell me when you're ready" Not that I will ever be ready to hear it I thought bitterly. There's not word to express just how hearing this makes me feel.

I sit up against the headboard and process what I've heard. I take a few minutes, letting him recover from the effort of communicating so openly. Before I bring up the subject that had haunted me all last night.

"There is going to be an inquiry into what happened yesterday, it's all on surveillance. I think it's best if we go into the centre and speak directly with the director. I hope to be able to convince him that it was merely an unfortunate situation and that no remedial action need be taken. But I doubt he'll be happy. We should get up and head over there soon"


	6. Chapter 6

"He's not ready

"He's not ready!" I argued tensely.

"Of course he's ready. It's what he's trained for."

"No, you don't understand. He's only starting to trust me, if I make him fall now, it'll ruin everything I've worked towards."

"I'm sorry, Aaron. But you knew when you took him on that this was part of the deal. It's his job, and as much as you might want to protect him from it, it's the only reason he's still with you. I had to pull some serious strings to stop them taking him away after what happened the other day. If you don't let him do his job, you'll lose the guardianship."

"Is that a threat?" I almost growl, anger rising inside me. I can't believe we've got another case already! And damned if they're going to make Reid fall again so soon. The damned director had been so rude this morning, making Reid kneel beside my chair as he again went through the reasons why he should be restrained at all times. And now the minute I walk into work, my boss is telling me that I have no choice in the matter. And the case is so gruesome, I can't imagine that monster entering the innocent mind of one such as Reid.

"No, of course not. I'm just reminding you of the facts. I've put myself out on a limb here after that shit you pulled the other day. You should be thanking me for not letting them walk in here and take him away right now. Do you know how many people are just waiting for you to mess up? You can't afford to be making any waves right now."

What could I say? She was right. Reid was with me for no other reason than her allowing it. If I wished to keep him, I'd need to toe the line. I knew that there were no other options. Reid would fall, whether I liked it or not, and at least this way I could be there to support him through it. He would fall, no matter the damage to himself, and I'd just need to pick up the pieces.

"Yes, ma'am." I nodded to her. "I'll have him ready tomorrow morning."

"Good." She smiled at me smugly, and I felt the impossible desire to shake that smugness off her face. Then she turned to me, feigning care.

"Aaron, don't get any more emotionally involved than you already are. It'll only get you hurt. He's not yours to save. This is not something you can save him from."

"Thank you for your concern," I told her tensely. "Tomorrow then," I said abruptly, leaving her office. I couldn't handle anyone else 'advising' me on the damaged nature of Sera and how I should simply stay away. It was getting to be enough to push me to violence.

..0.

We sit as I have positioned us, on my bed facing each other. I haven't given him any drugs for over four hours, and this is probably the most lucid he's been for many weeks. It's a small of window of opportunity before the symptoms of withdrawal will begin, but for this I really need him to be here with me.

It's been half an hour since he last spoke, and while I'm anxious to know what's going through his head, I know that he needs time to process his thoughts. I told him earlier what he would need to do tomorrow. He seemed strangely emotionless about it all, he simply closed his eyes for a few seconds, and then reopened them and said:

"I…I think I'm going to need your help tonight." I nod, understanding immediately. I knew that he'd ask for this.

"I'd rather not use the implant tomorrow to bring you back. Would you be willing to let me try something else?"

"Please! Anything is better than that!" he had responded.

So, now we sit, silently building ourselves up to what needs to happen. Tonight I will for the first time really touch him. And for the first time in so many years, that touch will cause another pain. And while I try desperately to not think about the last person I had touched this way, his face keeps reaching across my memories.

No, I tell myself firmly. This is different. That won't happen again, this is not Harris.

I shake my head, mentally berating myself for even comparing them. Reid isn't even anything like Harris. I force myself to really look at Reid, to study his too-thin form, judging his pale skin and assessing exactly how much his body could probably take. Because later I know that I'll be fighting the urge to give him more--not pain, but touch. I'll want to touch him, run my fingers along his back, circle his hips and guide his lips to mine.

But when he finally looks over at me, I can see he's readied himself for it. Something has changed in his features; somehow he's colder, darker and more distant. He's entered a place in his mind I'm sure he keeps for when he expects to be tortured, humiliated and ruined.

I bite back a sigh. That just means I'm going to have to be harder on him than I originally wanted. This is the first time we'll do this, but experience tells me that I'm going to have to bring him down hard. If it's going to make an impact, I'm going to have to bring him down very hard indeed, and I can only hope that in the future, I'm not going to have to do it to this extent, that he'll open up to me without me having to break down his defenses. Sometimes I love this, and sometimes I absolutely hate it.

Okay, I tell myself, just do it, nothing more.

..0.0.0.

_He shifts and leans in close or what feels like close. Which for most people isn't probably that close, but for me, it feels like he's practically crowding me._

"_This first time, we're going to take it slow," he says coolly. "I'm going to spank you using only my hand, and I'm not going to restrain you at all. I'll walk you through it this time, so tomorrow you'll know what to expect." Not that that is going to make a difference, I think to myself bitterly, he's going to have to force whoever I fall as to submit, not me. I almost snort in contempt, but catch myself before I do, or rather the conditioning does, and for the first time in so long I wonder that I even felt the urge. Something is different about me today, I can feel it. Like a haze that is always degrading my thoughts has lifted and I can actually feel something, think coherent thoughts. God, the drugs are clearing away and I can actually feel! Don't get used to it, I tell myself, it's only going to make it worse once he pulls out the kit again._

"_Tomorrow?" I ask, seeking information._

"_Yes, I'm going to repeat this tomorrow, and see if I can bring you back without using the implant." I almost smile. Yes!_

"_Can you do that?" I ask in wonder._

_Truthfully, I don't know. Maybe. I'd like to try and see if I can guide you back." The hope is almost too much. It hurts, hope hurts._

..0.0.0.

He's silent for a long time, looking at his hands. I'm starting to understand what that means and I mentally prepare myself. He doesn't resist as I pull him forward; instead he falls to his knees in front of me. His head is down and his hands behind his back, crossed at the wrists. His posture is too perfect, too submissive and vulnerable.

I can't resist touching him on the shoulder, but don't miss the small shudder that betrays his fear. And I felt a little awe. Here he was, kneeling at the feet of someone who promised to hurt him and he was strong enough to stay still while I touched him. Even when every experience of submission was little more than torture. He'd never been guided in his needs, never had anyone show him the respect and consideration due to all in his position.

I run my hand across his cheek and under his chin. With my other hand cupped behind his head, I force him up to face me.

"Look at me, Spencer." He does so hesitantly. "You told me that you want to trust me. Well, I plan on earning that trust. This is going to make you feel better, I promise. I'll prove to you that you can trust me to get you what you need. If it's too much, I want you to tell me the word 'Willow'. Say it."

"Willow," he stammered, a little confused, and I had to remind myself that he'd never taken part in a scene or known anything about bdsm before this. I don't know why I chose that word, maybe the painkilling properties of the bark or the colour of his eyes. But somehow it just seemed right, a way for him to stop the pain if he needed it.

"It's a word for you to use if you need me to stop. And I will. You say that word and it all stops immediately. Okay?"

"Yes, yes, okay."

"If you need me to slow down, say 'Oak', okay?"

"Yes, Oak."

"Good." I smile at him. I don't offer him a word for more, I just can't do that. Harris taught me that lesson well.

I didn't plan on putting him across my lap, but now that he's kneeling across from me, it's just too hard to resist. I pull him up, and guide him across the room to a chair that I sit in, and ease him down across my lap. It's not my favorite position, but I couldn't bring him up on the bed.

I let him lie there for a moment, listening to his breath hitch nervously. I want to touch him, reassure him, but know that he already feels vulnerable enough, it'll just make him worse. Instead, I speak to him.

"Spencer, breathe slowly for me. That's it, in and out, in and out. Good."

When he has stilled as much as I think he's going to, I pull down his pajama pants a little. I need to see his skin to do this, I never spank someone seriously through material--you just can't see what damage you're doing that way.

I let my hand rest on his skin for a few seconds, letting him get used to the feeling of my skin on his before bringing it back and administering the first strike. I let my hand stay on his skin, feeling it warm under my palm and giving him time to process the sensation. He is silent, and barely reacts at all, just like I had worried. So I bring back my hand and give him another on the other cheek, again letting him get used to the feeling.

I warm him up slowly, every few seconds landing my hand on his ass in a carefully timed exercise. I want him to become used to this before I move on to the harder job of making an impact.

But slowly, he's starting to react, tensing slightly between the strokes. He's still silent, but I can feel him moving his hands, pulling them into fists.

"Put your hands on the back of your neck, Spencer," I order him. Those cuts are almost healed, but I don't want him opening them up again any time soon. He obeys immediately.

I pick up the pace, providing a steady stream of moderate strokes that finally pull little gasps from him. He's clenching his hands together now behind his neck, and I can imagine him biting his lip to stop crying out. But I want him to cry out; I want to hear his voice, so I move the aim of my strokes to one spot, concentrating on raising a vicious red mark on the still-pale flesh. And I can't stop myself admiring how beautifully his skin marks, how the red fades up into the curve of his back. God, I think to myself, it's been so long since I felt that, since I've entered this place inside myself and let myself feel these things, enjoy this.

And then he's moaning and crying out a little, almost inaudibly, but it's there. A whimper between clenched teeth, and I smile and again pick another place to concentrate on, finally!

..

_It's washing over me, through me. Washing me clean._

_I can hear my heart beat, fast and clear. And his strong presence calming me as the sting turns into an ache and then a stream. A steady stream I can wash myself in, diving under it and letting my thoughts clear away, letting the voices wash away. And I feel alive. I feel like screaming and yelling. And begging and thanking. And sunning myself in this warmth 'til there is nothing left but it and me, no one but me and the stream of pain. And Aaron. Aaron who can give it to me._

_And God, the pain of it all, the gushing, hitching physicality of it all. Please I want to beg, nothing but this ever made it better. And it's so hard, it's so painful. And so necessary, and he's there guiding it along, leading me through it. Building it up' til it's almost too much, too intense but he's there, with me, touching me, touching my skin._

_I can feel his other hand come to rest over mine, clasped behind my neck, and he's comforting me with words. Simple statements of how well I'm doing, of how I need to hang on a little longer. And I do, I let it swirl around me, twist me up and then release me._

_God, it's horrible, wonderful, terrific and suddenly I'm screaming and crying, and the pain has ended, and I'm in his arms. In his incredible arms, listening to his voice soothe me, tell me how well I did. And I just want to crawl inside him, give him every part of me. And I'm looking into his eyes, seeing his face, and it's blurry through my tears, but he's suddenly so beautiful. So perfect._

_And his lips are touching mine, the salt of my tears making our mouths slightly bitter. And I moan, so loudly in both our ears. Touch me, I want to scream! Touch every part of me!!_

.0.0.0.

I'd shifted him up into my lap when he finally gave in to tears. I could sense his need to be embraced, comforted. Just like in the hospital that day, he needed someone to pull him close and tell him that he wasn't alone in all this.

But when he pulled back, looking me in the eyes, I wanted so badly to kiss him, to possess his mouth, that I almost moaned with the effort. And then he was leaning in and kissing me, and my desire took over for a moment. I let go, and drew him to me, hungrily giving into the urge. His tongue started to work its way into my mouth and I knew that I couldn't do this. He was vulnerable and needing comfort, not this. Reluctantly, I pulled back to the sound of his panting moan in my ears.

"You need to sleep now, love. This has been hard, and tomorrow will be worse. Come on," I said, shifting us both to our feet and guiding him over to the bed. He could barely walk, he was shaking so badly, so I picked him up, again amazed at his lightness, and eased him down on his stomach.

"Sleep well," I told him, brushing the hair back from his eyes, as I pulled the covers over his shoulders. I turned the light out and slipped under my own side. I could hear him begin to cry again softly and bit back a curse. Why couldn't this be easier?

I'd broken through to him and now I had to take the responsibility for that, I told myself. I shift, so that I am lying beside him on my side, and take his closest hand in mine, and rest my other hand on his neck possessively. That seems to work, because his breathing stills, and after a few long minutes he falls into an exhausted sleep.

I almost curse myself when I realize that I haven't given him the sleeping drug yet. But he's asleep now, so maybe he doesn't need it. I can't help thinking maybe he doesn't need any of them.


	7. My Slave To That Great Power: Oneshot

**My Slave to That Great Power**

**From the Ashes, Hope: A glimpse into a possible future in the Ashes Verse. **

**A NOTE OF CAUTION!!! - This section is written as a thank you to some friends who nominated me for an award... IT'S HARCORE!!! and is DOES NOT follow the story in terms of timeline...think of it as an AU to my AU story :P I seem to have freaked out a few people already so please mind the warning!!!**

I can't help thinking back over the past few years with a mixed sense of unease and thankfulness. A strange connection still stretches taught between us that leaves me wondering about his awareness of the complexities within my soul. It was his actions that brought us together and his strength that allowed us to find some sense of unity.

But he rests now, curled up on the couch next to me. His still too lean form curled up under the weight of half a dozen stifling blankets, his body still reacting badly to the cold. The doctors tell me that it's a symptom left over from years of ill health and a body perpetually underweight.

But truthfully, I know it's not just about that.

He likes the weight of them holding him down and pressing him in some encompassing way. Some weight, some pressure from inanimate objects gives him a feeling of security, much like autistic children often crave the same, an embrace untainted by human emotions.

But, unlike them, his head rests peacefully on my thigh. His pale hand sliding up from underneath it's nest of blankets to clasp mine, his eyes still fixed firmly forward.

"Aaron?"

"Yes?" I ask, knowing the question already but it's still important to make him ask for it.

"Will you..." he falters on the first try, but I'm patient and with a little time to gather his nerve he tries again, "Can you me hurt tonight?" I smile down at him as a reward and brush my hand through his hair.

"Of course I will. In fact I'll do better than that, I'll make you come tonight too." Which prompts such a genuinely delighted response that I can't help leaning over to press my lips to that smile, tasting for myself the sweetness of his mood.

..

I keep us there a little longer though. Instead I stroke the curve of his neck and run the tips of my fingers through his hair. I learnt early that physical intimacy between us needs to be built up gradually. Too soon and he panics.

He needs to let his body become accustomed to my touch. Even now when we're in public he can barely tolerate any touch at all. Instead of a hug or a kiss, I content myself with running my fingers along the seam on the collar of his shirt or tapping two of my fingers on the palm of his hand. A small gesture signifying much. To us at least.

For what I plan to do tonight, I'm going to have to strengthen our physical bond early. Let him soak in my touch, let him get to know my body as well as he knows he own. Which, even that sometimes, he barely knows at all.

But that comes with the territory I remind myself.

I have to do that a lot nowadays, his determination to function normally in the outside world hides the fact that often he is struggling within his own mind. I forget the battle he fights to keep the others from taking over, from loosing contact with his own body. It's been a hard week for all of us and now that the case that case is closed the need to re-establish contact and sooth his overtaxed mind takes precedence over everything else. I need to help him settle himself back into his own body. I should have done this earlier, I chastise myself for my obliviousness and make the resolution to have more frequent sessions.

But tonight I have something special planned, something difficult but worthwhile.

I'd figured it out a while ago and, in my own overly cautious way, been putting it off for months. It was something that both thrilled and terrified me. The fact that it would help him, give him (and me) something to cling to when we didn't have each other near was what convinced me. He needed it done.

The fact that the mere thought of it sent burst of utter arousal through my skin, warm fingers wrapping themselves around the darker places in my mind, urging me on was only a side effect. This is for him.

..

I lean over once again and whisper to him, "You did so well today and I know it's not easy for you to keep such a tight control over it all. So tonight, I'm going to make you let go of it all. I'm going to make you scream and beg and cry and I'm going to be right there with you."

His beautiful close for a second, still not meeting mine, but I can see the half-smile edging it's way onto his face as he tucks himself in closer to me. I know another part of him is searching my mind. Not sifting my thoughts like he does with those at work but tasting my mood and delving into my arousal so that his own may grow deeper.

At first I found this disconcerting but now I welcome his easily. I'd give him access to every part of me if he desired it. Sometimes I feel like I don't know who I am without him. Sometimes I feel like I want to simply pick him up and walk away from all of this, from everyone.

To save him this pain.

But I can't and here we are, gathering these gentle moments together like pieces of a puzzle and reminding ourselves that at least in all of this we have found each other.

..

Eventually I can feel him loosen under my gentle caresses and I know that he's ready. I ease him to his feet.

"You remember what to say?"

"Yes."

"Tell me."

"Willow to stop."

"And to rest or slow down?"

"Oak" Not that I'd ever go so far as to warrant him using them, but it's part of the ritual we had formed when preparing for a scene and was always asked well before any other action. He liked routines he could follow and it helped him get in the right head space. I lead him upstairs through the bedroom to the bathroom.

..0.0.0

I led him to the shower, another part of the ritual.

I kiss him sweetly on the side of the neck where the skin turns pale and hair is soft and short as it curves behind his ear. Trembling slightly, he leans into my touch, millimetre by millimetre until I can feel him resting gently against me, his head curled into the crook of my neck. I can feel his intake of breathe against my chest, and the warm air passing along the line of my jaw as he lets out a small sound, a needy whisper.

Easing my hand down the length of his neck, I grasp the first of the straps nestled between his shoulder blades. It slips free easily and I'm able to slide my hands down further to the next buckle located against his lover back and the last acting like a reverse belt. This harness he now wears is different from his old one, it's still designed to be almost impossible for him to remove on his own. But this design when worn under a jacket looks simply like a set of thick braces and a gun holster (not that he's ever be allowed a gun, but the illusion is there).

He also wears only wrist and ankle cuffs now as I was able to convince his caseworker that after the trauma he experienced, wearing a full harness would do more damage than good. We compromised. The embarrassment they'd face if the truth of that case was ever made public also helped my argument somewhat.

I still had to keep a set of thigh and arm restraints in my draw at work

..0.

After I've eased him out of the straps, I unbutton his shirt and pull it off his shoulders. The sudden touch of his skin against mine draws that ache of desire out further and I can't help moaning slightly. He moans too, an odd echo of my own from a moment earlier. It's still a little disconcerting to hear him mirroring me, it's a comfort thing for him and a common behaviour for Sera, but that doesn't make it any less eerie. But I ignore it, allowing him to think I didn't notice or didn't care.

..

Pushing him back against the sink, I begin unzipping his pants. I have to crouch to pull them down over his knees and feet until finally he is free of them.

I place my lips on that tender place just above the curve of his hip and follow the line of the harness down between his legs, splitting them and easing the stiff strips away and down.

I hear a sigh from above, as if a great weight had been lifted. And if it had been anyone else, I wouldn't be surprised by this reaction to being released. But knowledge of his condition has led him to feel fearful when unrestrained, he dreads his own actions, he fears the damage he could, and has, done to people he loves. The guilt heavy and sickening, twisting him up inside until he can barely trust his own mind. All the progress we have made, seems like nothing when he practically begs me to keep him from hurting people.

I look up at him warily, worried what I might see. But the flush in his cheeks and the desire in his eyes gives him away. My concern turns to amusement almost instantly, well, I think to myself, that sigh must have been for the release of something else. The evidence sliding free as I ease him out of his underpants. I smile up at him in reward, and brush my hand down it's length, just once to show my interest, before shucking my clothes and guiding us both into the shower stall.

.0.0.

First this.

This ritual of scrubbing away the grime of days past. Wash away the filth on his body before concentrating on his mind.

That I could reach inside his mind and sift though his memories, pluck out and clean those not even his, that haunt his dreams at night, and in my arms as he wept bitter salty tears. I wish I could clean out his mind, take a scalpel and cut away the imprints left by cruel men and women, by murderers who showed him their crimes, as we ask him to still, show themselves, through him.

And I wonder whether he'll survive more of this. Can he survive being who he is, doing what he does?

Sometimes I wonder if he hasn't died already, if we both have already been destroyed by all this filth, all this horror. That when we found each other we were both broken, scared and ripped apart.

What Sean took from me, what Spencer will take with him and what all that darkness we see every day corrupts. I know, without any doubt, I will not survive this alone. What's left of me will break apart and be blown away like the scraps they are.

It's as if we are two broken pieces of a whole, that someone in their cruelty ripped apart, stripped pieces from and burnt away.

We cannot be healed, I know that now.

But we can fit together.

Somehow Spencer knew, he saw that the pieces I still clutched desperately close to my chest were the pieces he was missing. And like a puzzle, we placed what was left on a table and managed to fit them together, seams lining up, colours fitting together until finally we had a whole.

Not what we had before but something new, something that was neither nor both, but simply there between us. A strange connection stretched taught between us, allowing us to go on and maybe if we can keep our pieces together, not let them take any more.

Maybe, I can hope, maybe we will survive this.

..

I wash his body slowly, concentrating on covering every part of him, talking him through the process as it helps ease him down into the right head space.

"Can you feel the cloth here, against your thigh?"

I chose a rough cloth, one that on anyone else would be too harsh. But it helps him, makes him pay attention to the messages being sent to his brain. Instead of the murmuring, roaring voices, he can feel the cloth against his skin, the rough texture working free all the lingering traces from the days past. I tell him to concentrate on my voice, and listen to his body, to feel his arousal and soak himself in the warmth of the water flowing over his skin. Guiding him to focus on his body helps him out of his head and means that I need not use such high levels of pain to get through to him and pleasure helps as well.

We're learning slowly what works.

I had tried to use pleasure alone for a while, hoping that it was enough, that it could suffice. But he explained once again, in his quiet, gentle and firm way the truth. Pain lingered, the aching stinging jolts allow him to keep his tortured mind clear for longer. Pleasure, he explained, is momentary, wonderful but passing.

Pain lingers, pain lasts. Pain marks paths on which he can crawl back to reality, back to himself.

..0.

Finally I wash his hair, running my fingers through it length and easing the water from the ends, watching it cascade down his back in soapy rivers. I massage his scalp, letting him rest against me once again.

"I love you like this" I tell him, "Affectionate and willing to let me touch you, I know it's hard but I love to touch you like this." I run my hand across his belly, pulling him in tighter to me, "You are so beautiful, that I want touch all of you. I wish..." I cut myself off, knowing the pointlessness of the desire.

But he's there, turning in my arms, letting his actions speak for him.

He meets my eyes for the first time that night and draws me close, his lips so close I can feel his breathe brush over mine.

I try desperately not to show the sadness I'm feeling, but he knows. He leans close and kisses the side of my lips, chastely at first, as if seeking permission. My reaction, obvious enough that soon he has my mouth again against his, a gentle, hesitant passion has him sliding his tongue into my mouth and bringing with it release into careless desire. I give into the kiss, longing to draw him up to me and give us both release, to press my hands into his still wet skin and kiss my way down his chest till I'm on my knees, drawing him into my mouth and delivering that sweetest moment, taking him there until he's weak with it. Relaxed and easy, resting in my arms once again.

But he didn't ask for that. I agreed to give him something else, something stronger.

I pull out of the kiss and ease his chin up till our eyes meet once again.

"Ready?"

"Yes"

.0.0.0.

_He lays me face down on our bed. _

_It's covered in a plastic sheet but he's put a soft blanket over it so all I feel is the warmth of it under me. And his hands guiding me into position. No pillow under my head this time, instead he guides my arms to rest under me, my forehead pressing just above my wrists. _

_I want so badly to reach around and pull him to me. Beg him to touch me again like he did in the shower. The air is so cold on my damp skin and he's not with me yet, I know he'll come back but for now I ache for the weight of the blankets I was surrounded in earlier. I want to curl up and sink into the stifling heat they offer. _

_I hate to lie here so exposed. And my heart is racing, my lungs contracting. _Aaron,_ I want to beg, _Aaron, come back to me_. And there is nothing holding me there, holding me down or keeping me safe. Keeping him safe. _

_Put the cuffs on, I've asked him so many times. On nights like this, I've asked and he's refused. _

_'I trust you' he's said, brushing off my fears, 'I know you can control it. You won't hurt me'_

_And so far he's been right, the whispered had stayed whispers, and the nobodies had stayed nobodies. And the whole time I'd been with him, naked and somehow more than terrified and less than scared. I'd been ok, I'd felt myself slipping into a place different from the darkness where I usually fell. I fell somewhere infinitely more alive, more calm and somehow more real. Since that first night he'd guided me there, I knew I needed him._

_So resisting the urge to move I wait, wait for him to give me whatever it is he's willing to give. _

..

_The first thing I feel is his weight settle beside me and his warm hands run down my back, resting momentarily on the base of my spine. _

"_Spencer, you need to listen to me carefully. Tonight I need you not to move. Even when it hurts, you need to stay perfectly still. Nod if you understand"_

_I nod, ready._

_He kisses a spot on each of my shoulder blades before he draws back and I feel first the cold of the metal digging into my skin and then the sting as flesh gives way._

_I can't help but hiss a little through my teeth. That first moment, that first kiss of pain, that first jarring assault on my senses. My vision swims and I'm pressing my head tightly into my arms. God, I'm not used to this pain, the immediacy of my skin giving way and the blood seeping to the surface so I can feel it leaking slowly out of the wound and down my side to drip rhythmicly onto the blanket. _

_I gasp but remain perfectly still, I don't want to ruin this. _

_He draws the knife out, away from my spine and when he's done, he drops the knife beside me. His warm hands come to rest on either side of my head and his voice whispers into my ear._

"_Breathe for me sweetheart."And I do, obedience instantaneous "That's it. You're doing great. Nod when you're ready to go on"_

_When my heart stills and my vision clears I nod. Ready. _

_And the second cut is less jarring than the last, instead it's potent, and heavy, a weight pushing me down underwater. It's an immediate ache, an immediate shift from skin, to mind, to me, somewhere I'm sinking. But I'm not fighting, I'm relaxing, letting the rushing water wash over me. When I'm not here, I forget about this place a little, it looses colour, looses flavour. _

_But here I am, in a magnificent chamber of light and colour, that's somehow heavy and thick but full of music. My body is singing, it's telling me that it feels, it's alive. _

_Breathe, in and out, in and out. Let that rhythm be your base, in and out and sinking and singing along with all that music. I can feel him around me, beside me. Somehow we're walking through that chamber of heavy light and music and he has my hand. It's cutting a way across my shoulder blades but it's also here in mine, grasping me tight to him. _

"_Aaron," I whisper, wanting to scream it out but I can't, I'm too caught up in it all. "Aaron, Aaron!"_

"_I know," he tells me. "Keep breathing."_

_And I do, and I shift towards him, pulling him towards the colours, the music. I pull him with me into this place. And together we watch it all shift around us, stripping us of all that is not essentially us. Stripping me back to my skin, my mind and my heart. _

_And suddenly I can feel him press into me again, another and another stripe of pain. Another and another caress. _

_He's taking me where we haven't walked before. Making changes that are forever, my skin is splitting and my mind is opening as well and everything is rushing out into the swell. I want to dance with him to the beat of the changes, but I don't want to move, I don't want him to stop. _

_.0.0.0._

The liquid is running down his back, pooling red and thick. And I'm almost done. Almost finished this. I can feel him breathing raggedly underneath me, his fists clenched and and his body stiff. But I can feel him needing more as well, somehow, I can feel him inching his way inside my mind. _I want this_, he's telling me, _follow me here, guide me here. _And I do, I keep cutting until it's almost done, easing my knife in controlled strokes through his skin, deep enough to scar but not deep enough to do real damage. I'm careful but it's tenuous, he's loosing himself and I can feel myself going with him.

Just one more, I tell myself, one more and you're done. One more and the task is complete and you can give in to him, you can give over your mind and slide into that neither place between pleasure and pain. Join him there.

And I do. I complete the last cut and fall with him, gasping and grinding against him.

He rises and turns into my arms and the blood flows across his chest in red etches.

I pull him to me so his legs are around my waist and we're kissing. Physically kissing, harsh and alive. Sweat and blood combining till both our chests are strained pink. And tears I didn't know I'd shed glisten on his cheeks as I rub my cheek against his, I'm sobbing I realise. Like a child and we're kissing and that edge of pleasure is building.

..0.

_That edge of pleasure is building as I'm surrounded by his arms. That edge we've walked together before now seems so much more definite, permanent. That when we finally cross it we'll both fall somewhere new, somewhere better. _

_And I want to beg him to touch me, use the blood, sweat and tears, use the pain, use the colours and heavy music and the fact that somehow it's raining outside and I've only just noticed. _

_PLEASE! Take us both over that definite edge. _

_Then I realise, he can't move, can't act. It's up to me to guide us there. It's us now. _

_And I reach down, between us and with a willing hand thrust us both over that edge. That gasping, moaning, cascade of sensation, where pain meets pleasure and he's shaking in my arms, letting me wipe away the tears. _

_And he looks at me, our gazes meeting and a knowledge etched in the space between. _

_"My beautiful Seraphim, my slave to that great power" He whispers, "I drew you wings." _


	8. The new story arc

Ok my lovely readers, I've COMPLETELY redone chapter 8...as in it doesn't even have the same characters, forget the other chapter8 even existed and read on from here...I know I have!!!!!

Sometime through the night his sleep becomes restless, he shivers against me, his skin cold and clammy even though the heat of the covers is more than adequate. He becomes listless, murmuring in his sleep and calling out for someone, calling out so quietly that at first I'm not sure that he is actually speaking.

I begin to wonder if he's free-falling or has already fallen. He's pale and though he's still sleeping, his body shudders against me every so often, racked with muscle contractions. Nothing like the symptoms of a free-fall. Unsure as to what is going on, I watch him for a few minutes, tensely seeking more knowledge as to what is wrong with him. His lips form a dark line across his face and he bites back a moan; even in sleep he knows to be silent.

Though it takes me a little while, I eventually realize. He is going through the first stages of withdrawal. I wait though, reluctant to wake him, to break the spell of earlier, but watching his teeth clench against the onslaught brought me back to reality. I had acted irresponsibly before; I should never have let him fall asleep without monitoring his blood levels.

Easing myself out of the bed, I retrieve the meds case and kneel down on his side of the bed. Shaking him gently, hesitantly, I almost hope that he doesn't wake, that he settles back into sleep and I can go back to my sweet delusion.

But all too soon I am greeted with a set of startled eyes; there isn't even a question presented in them, just quiet expectation.

"I need to give you this," I tell him, showing him the case. "You need it."

He doesn't comment, just shifts so his back is flat to the bed and his arm moves out from under the covers, anticipating my actions.

I give him the shot. Exactly the prescribed amount. A higher dosage than I'd been giving him before, but now I know the risk.

After the drug invades his system, I hear him release a long held breath. He stares at the ceiling, going stiff before speaking.

"Thank you," he says, shifting his arm over his eyes. He seems strangely lost in thought.

"I'm so sorry!" I whisper to him, guilt making my words weak. I want him to absolve me of this act, but he can't, instead he is simply a witness, watching everything that happens to him but powerless to affect any of it. He can no more absolve me of this than he can escape it in the first place, and neither can I.

"We all have things to be sorry for, this small indignity, the least of them. I have so many things to be sorry for that any action you could possibly take, any horror you commit, could never match my own."

"Oh, Spencer. Don't you dare take on that guilt. Anything you've done after you've fallen isn't on your soul. It's on theirs." He huffs a little and turns his face into the pillow beside my hip, shifting his face into the darkness offered by my body. I run my hand down my own hip, mere millimeters from his skin, too scared to reach out any farther.

"So often I feel like no one. Like who I am is somehow a construct of all those I have become. Who am I, if not a mirror to all those others, to everyone else? I feel so often I am no one at all.

Aaron, it's like I can remember once being someone else, but that person is slowly being eaten away and replaced by others. Sometimes I can feel myself slipping away, and if I am to be no one, then who is guilty for my actions? Whoever or whatever is left?"

"You are someone," I say, tapping two of my fingers on the palm of his hand, a sign of affection he does not withdraw from, one of the few. "A beautiful, unique someone, and one day I'll prove it to you." I try to reassure him.

"But who is this person? How can I trust myself? Right now, right here for the first time in so long I feel like I can almost separate a part of myself from all those others, like my soul is somehow less polluted. I want to take some actions and know that it is I who wishes it so. That it is I who wants this, is doing this."

He raises his arm to gaze at the palm of his hand where I had just touched, purposefully laying it against my hip but his face is still hidden and I can't read his expression. Instead, I reach across and pull the covers up to his shoulders, letting my hand linger there on his back for a while, and through the thickness of the bedding I can feel his breath as it forces his ribcage in and out.

"Sometimes it's simple," he goes on, "sometimes I can lie here next to you and imagine touching you and it's possible. I can lean across this seemingly limitless distance between us and bridge that space. I can lay my fingers over yours and know the contours of your skin.

But then, when the action seems most possible and my limbs are aching to move, I cannot. I cannot will my fearful muscles to move. I cannot clear that echoing fog in my mind long enough to fight my body for it. Even though I know your kindness, I know your mind better than all the rest because it's clear when all others are veiled with fear and distrust." His voice grows heavy with the drug and his arm again falls to his side.

He looks like he wants to say more, but the drug wins over and he falls back into that heavy drugged sleep I had come to recognize so well. Why, when finally he is lucid, finally he can voice what's going on inside him, must I take it away? There must be other options! I decide to talk to Michael and find out exactly what I'm forcing through Spencer's veins.

But at least the shaking has subsided, I tell myself, unwilling to consider his words to me. Not now at least he's still.

..

Reid slept on the flight over; or rather, I put him to sleep. I dosed him up and eased him onto the couch. He needed all the rest he could get to deal with what I knew was coming, even though he had slept throughout the rest of the night. I sent him to sleep again anyway, it seemed easier somehow. He would face it all soon enough.

I watched him sleep as I briefed the others on what we were coming into. My eyes seemed drawn to his sleeping form. The curve of his neck and the crook in his arm as he curled it up around himself. _You never feel safe__,_ _do you_?

..0.

There were five victims. That wasn't the problem.

I had often dealt with the grisly aftermath of rampage killers. It wasn't unusual for that type of killer to leave a dozen or more bodies in their wake. No, it wasn't the body count that bothered me. It was the manner in which each of these deaths had occurred.

It seemed as if on this cool summer night, in a sleepy out-of-the-way town named Hallowan Springs, a killer had taken the life of two teenagers and maimed another three in the most horrific of ways, and most chillingly of all, they had done so without leaving a trace of their arrival or departure. Everyone was perplexed and the town was stunned. With a population of less than 400, five of their children being gone was unthinkable.

The media was yet to swarm, but undoubtedly soon on the way, and if this turned out as it appeared, then this anonymous town would become the site of one of the most bizarre and horrific events in history.

..

As we leave the tarmac, my watch goes off to remind me that Reid needs another shot. Despite my better judgment, I ease his arm out from his still-sleeping form, and give him the full dose. I can't risk damaging him, and that perilous edge I walked earlier is still too close for comfort.

I catch an odd look from Gideon. I know him well enough by now to see that he's worried about something, but holding his tongue.

But almost as soon as the drug hits Reid's system, his body clenches violently before thrashing out into a full blown tonic clonic seizure. For a moment I freeze, horrified at the thrashing form below me, Reid's eyes rolling back, and his mouth opening and closing in an almost horrific mirror of speech. His hands clenched oddly, as if the fingers didn't quite know how to perform the gesture.

With barely a moment to react, I find Morgan at my shoulder, his presence reassuring in its calm.

"Ease him onto the floor so he doesn't fall," he orders, before slipping in beside me to support his head while we shift him onto the floor. It feels like it's happening in slow motion, like I'm watching a movie and not reality.

"Shit!" I manage to gasp out. Morgan is calm enough for both of us as he eases his jacket under Reid's head, and gestures for me to move back out of the way.

"Hotch?" He asks.

"I don't know what happened!" I gasp, searching my memory for answers. "One moment he was asleep, I gave him the shot of Amathiserine like I was told to, and then he started convulsing."

"Okay, well he's calming down now anyway." He glances at his watch. "Three minutes and 23 seconds. He should be okay. Sounds like he had a reaction to the drug. You should call his doctor, though," he says calmly, touching me on the shoulder reassuringly before turning to Reid and putting him in the coma position and checking his airways. He lays a protective hand on Reid's forehead for a moment, and whispers something under his breath before turning to me.

"My sister had epilepsy when she was a kid. Grew out of it, though," he says to my questioning expression. "You should call that doctor, I'll look after him."

I nod, still a little numb from the whole thing.

..0.0.0.

Michael told me not to worry, he'd probably been reacting to the medication and that he was surprised that it hadn't happened sooner. So long as they weren't frequent, and weren't lasting longer than five minutes, I shouldn't worry too much. That advice didn't exactly put my mind at ease, but it did mean that my only course of action was to continue with the investigation, and just watch out for him.

He slept through the landing, but I had to wake him to bring him off the plane and into the jeep. I knelt down beside him, trying to keep my voice gentle.

"Reid. Reid, you have to wake up now." He answered with a moan, rolling his head sideways in the direction of the noise.

I shift back to give him room to move only to find him slipping down to the floor beside me. I shift my knees and reach my arms around his waist to catch him, believing he was falling off the sofa. But, as soon as I see his knees hit the floor, I realize his intention. He's falling into a kneel and my catching him has shifted him out of the movement. Soon enough, I end up with an armful of sleepy young man.

"Reid?" I ask, slightly off-balance, but still trying to sound reassuring.

"I'm sorry!" he gasps out, breathless.

"Hey, it's okay," I tell him soothingly as he shifts, trying to get out of my arms. I release him, and slip back a bit so he has room to move.

When he's settled himself on the floor across from me, I lean over and softly tell him to look at me.

"Good," I tell him when he does so, rewarding him with a smile. "You've been asleep for just over two hours and you had a fit as soon as I gave you the drug. How do you feel?"

He sits for a moment, sifting through his thoughts before nodding.

"Can you tell me what day it is?"

"Thursday I think, Thursday the 13th of March."

"Good, and what is my name?"

"Aaron Hotchner."

"Alright." I breathe a sigh of relief, no matter that they told me he would be fine, I still needed that reassurance. "We've arrived at our destination, so I need you to get up and come with me out to the cars."

With a nod he starts to rise, but is so obviously still weak that I have to help him up, supporting him under the arms. It would be easier to grab him by the straps around his harness, but touching that rough material is somehow hateful to me, hauling him up by them, somehow unforgivable.

I held him then momentarily, his weight resting against me and his breath warming my neck until the somehow timeless moment ended, and I was forced to ease his form away from me and guide him to support himself. Too long in my arms, and I knew the stiffness would seep back into his muscles, and the rise and fall of his chest, which currently rested against mine would grow ragged with tension. Oh, he wouldn't pull away, but he'd soon lose the calm acceptance, and later, the clarity in his eyes.

As I turned to guide him forward, I saw them; the others had watched us crouching on the floor of the plane. I turned to them, expecting to see animosity, but instead was met with pity or even sad curiosity.

I led him out first, unwilling to brave their stares any longer, and was met by the local police on the tarmac.

"Agent Hotchner?" The police chief stepped forward, offering his hand to me, which I grasped readily.

"Is there somewhere we could set up?"

"Yes, of course. We've cleared the conference room for you folks. I hope that's adequate."

"Yes, fine."

"Okay, then. If you'll follow me, we have organized the use of three of our cars for the duration."

.

We put Reid to sleep in the back room of one of their offices. It had a couch and the occupant was willing to let Gideon use it as a base.

I had to go work the case and so, much to my own regret, left Reid in Gideon's care.

I'd only had time to familiarize myself with the new evidence briefly before I needed to head over to the crime scene, which, due to its public nature, needed to be cleared as quickly as possible.

..0.

The first scene was odd in the fact that it was remarkably different from the others; a young man was drowned in the local swimming hole. His body was discovered by school children missing school to cool themselves in the water. His body was dragged ashore, and an attempt at resuscitation was made, but it was obvious that he had been dead for many hours. His death was the third in the series of attacks, taking place two days ago, the final two happening just last night.

He was dressed in a white flowing robe and he was barefoot. His skin was clean and his face shaved. But strangest of all, he had two deep, almost surgical cuts running down either side of his spine. They were deep enough to touch bone, and ran exactly five inches down.

He had also recently been crudely tattooed with what looked like an ox, a lion, an eagle, and the words "_Praise ye him, all his angels: praise ye him, all his hosts"_ tattooed in blue ink.

..0.

The other four victims, all female, one dead, and three in a serious condition in hospital, were all maimed and dumped. Identical burns, cuts, and whip marks adorned their bodies, their faces ruined, their tongues cut out.

Three were known within the local community as troublemakers, one a teenage prostitute, another was the girlfriend of the local drug dealer, and finally one girl picked up multiple times for stealing cars and breaking and entering. The last was a 16-year-old girl who attended the local school and kept up good grades, familial relations, and good ties within the community. It was she who lay dead in the morgue. The injuries she suffered were simply too much for her body to survive.

Each girl was dumped back at her home, a cross painted in her own blood marking the pavement at the front of each of their houses and a letter tucked into each one's hands addressed to one of their male relatives or partners.

The note simply read.

_"And a man will choose...any wickedness, but the wickedness of a woman...Sin began with a woman and thanks to her we all must die." Ecclesiasticus, 25:18, 19 & 33. _**1**

_Her, that deceitful wife and those who follow her will know HIS wrath and be revealed in all their perversion. She shall be revealed and in revealing shunned for the false beauty she presents. And her, that Queen Ash, woman of groves and poles, woman who dared stand in HIS presence will be finally cast out. Her ashes will fall over all the world and into that dark night, her spawn will be driven away and those who have forgotten will be set free. _

_Sir, I have shown you this wretch's true nature. Do not be deceived by her sweet facade, she is your enemy. _

..0.0.0

Before I head back to give the team my summary, I photograph each scene from various angles, picturing each time the look in Reid's eyes as I show him each shot. Each time I press that shutter closed, and capture a bit more of this horror, I know that I am pouring yet more ink into that dark pool drowning his mind. And soon, I will have to ask him to fall into that blackness and choose not to swim.

Ok, yep you guessed it!! I am actually continuing this story...finally!  
I want to hear what you all think about the new way this fic is going...and yes I have already working out what will happen, believe me when I say that it won't be months between chapters this time :) Thanks for everyone who stuck by me!!!  
What do you think of it now? any suggestions? I survive on comments alone :-P


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 10

_The fog from the drugs is still thick in my mind, my muscles weighed down and lethargic. Vaguely, I remember falling to to the floor but not much else, as if the last few hours crumbled passed together in the space of a few confronting seconds. My limbs are heavy and my mouth dry, but I stifle back the urge to lick my lips. The last few weeks not withstanding, it has never been a good idea to draw attention to my wakened state. _

_And all those voices sound so loud now, so much more insistent, like just before a fall. _

_And I'm dizzy, I can hear them as if they're crowded around me, crouched in my space._

_And telling me hurtful, painful, cruel things. _

_And it's hard to tell where my own thoughts end. _

_And theirs begin, when I am thinking or it's them. _

_And when it's them talking to me or when maybe it _is_ me. _

_And I just wish it wasn't me that felt it, this horrible path I seem to be following in my mind. _

_'_Weak, you're so weak.'

'Showing your weakness to them like that!'

'They deserve to die'

_I shake the words away, pushing them back to their place behind my eyes and open my eyes to the slightly blurry image of the face of a man who as of yet I hadn't really been able to really get to know. His face was a little warn around the edges, like he'd live just a little too hard for a little two long. I shift through my mind, categorising what little I know of him and what I can feel about him. He's not far off desperate measures, but he's not there yet and still he tries his best. _

_The whispers, call to me telling me to close my eyes again, ignore him, flight him, use him as a means of escape, take his weaknesses and abuse them. And I tell them to leave me alone, I'll have to give into them soon enough, I don't want to just yet...no matter how sharp are their tongues, no matter how bitter their words. _

'How easily I could clamp my hands around his neck and end his suffering'

'What filth you are surrounded with'

'You deserve to die'

"_Hello, Reid" he says gently. "How are you feeling?"_

"_Um..." I really not sure what to say to him, I'd gotten so used to being ignored that his concern seems suspicious even if I tell myself that I'm being paranoid. The curling caution under his words can't be faked, he is just as uncomfortable as I am. _

"_I guess fine." not that I every really feel fin, but I do feel better for being asked. _

"_Would you like some water?" _

_I nod, nervous again. One of the voices seethes, _

'It's poisoned! You're a dead man',

'Yes, you deserve everything that has happened to you'

_He doesn't hand me the glass, instead places it within my reach and sits back to give me room to move, oh small graces. The water is cool again my dry mouth, soothing as it passes down my throat. _

'You know what would happen to you if you ever did kill someone'

'It would all be over then'

'Silence at least, poor, weak one'

'I deserve to die'

"_Reid, are you alright?" he asks gently, worry creasing the skin around his mouth. _

"_Yes," I say, desperate for it to be true._

"_No, you're really not. Can you tell me what's wrong. Are you in pain?"_

"_No," I lie, not physical pain at least._

"_Do you need me to get Hotch? Do you need another shot?" He's persistent and with that comment my heartbeat quickens though I try to hide my panic._

"_No please. They make it worse!"_

"_Worse? How?" He's asking almost curiously, almost horrified. _

"_The presences, the ones that drift or stay. They get stronger as I get weaker. I'll fall if you give me any more." I whisper, afraid of his response. _

"_Alright." he says gently, "Alright, no drugs. But food and more water and then we can talk." He nudges the glass closer to me again and produces from the small fridge a sandwich, Ham and lettuce. _

_He watches me eat it before speaking again, obviously concious of the difficulty of that simple task. He waits till I'm settled back onto the couch and he has cleared away the mess._

"_I always wondered what effect those drugs had on real Sera. When I took them they did very little except make me nauseous and tired." That caught me off guard and I almost caught myself glancing up at him in shock. He laughs a little and for a moment I think he's laughing at me. But he's not, it's a sour sort of laugh, a bitter memory long past._

"_In my time they started the drugs before diagnosis, just in case. I'm not a Sera, but they thought I might be." A Sera! It's rattling around in my mind, unable to be understood, to comprehend, they thought he might be a Sera. _

"_I'm sorry" It's the only thing I can think of to say. _

"_As am I. For us both," His smile is sad and it doesn't reach his eyes. "But I got out and you have Hotch."_

"_Yes, I have Hotch." I realise, as I say it. I've known before this but to hear it said like that, so casually, it's almost raw. _

_We lapse into silence then, each of us winding down paths in our own minds. He is very like me I realise, it's not surprising they thought he might be one of us. _

"_He has you to you know." He issues finally, hesitantly, as if unsure of the value of his words. "He need you just as much as you need him."_

"_Sometimes almost know that. Sometimes I can see it. He doesn't need me like I need him, but he does need someone, a person, a lifeline out of his own darkness." I want to bite back the words, they feel like a betrayal. But I can't, their truth lies in the telling. _

"_You need to ask him"_

"_I know"_

"_He will tell you"_

"_I know"_

"_It's important"_

"_I know" Yes, I want to yell...I KNOW, of course I do, I've always known... It's why I chose him...it's everything we are, sometimes it's all we are. But instead I turn to him and ask._

"_Tell me about this case. I don't want to fall, but I would like to know about it."_

_I give him my wrists to fasten together and he does so, leaning into my space to clip together my legs. But that's all he does and soon he's gone again. Opening a file in front of me and reading and somehow the voices aren't loud enough to take over, somehow hours later when Hotch returns to take us back tot he Motel for the night, we're still sitting there discussing the case. We're debating the meaning of the religious chapters and long ago Gideon had gotten me a notepad and I'm starting to formulate an idea, an illogical, unusual possibility, not that I dare express it. _

_But it sits there in my mind, while I'm meant to be sleeping, it's there...a name, a possibility... Asherah. _


	10. Chapter 10

I take him outside with me today. Admitting to the impossibility of sleep, we leave just before the tips of the trees feel any warmth and walk down past apple trees and quiet primary schools empty of souls.

I let him lead, an illusion of control I'm not even sure he's grateful for, but at least it lets me watch the to quiet fade around us.

Soon enough the day will start, they always do.

But perhaps we might wonder a while, before reality come seeping in and we must turn back to face louder things.

His breath mists out in front of him as it hits the morning air and his cheeks stain pink in the chill. And as we cross a park, he turns and takes my hand in his. Chill fingers wrapping around mine as he leads me towards a path marked out by a sign proclaiming it 'Sherwood Reserve'.

"I saw this walk marked out on a map yesterday, there is a lookout ahead" His words hand eerily in the still morning air, crisp and too loud though he barely spoke over a whisper.

And as the darkness rolled around us, not yet willing to give up the night, we touched for the first time in what seemed like years, my warm skin pressed against his, palm to palm. And we passed oak and maple, trees crowded around us, brushing, raking out arms and faces. Their touch so much more real than fragile grasp we possess now.

He seemed to know where he was going, following the turn and curve, through the almost night. Our bodies at times millimetres apart and at others what felt like miles, even as our hands were clenched firmly together.

He walked though the darkness, leading me on until almost suddenly, it was upon us.

The world fell away and we were surrounded by sky. The outcrop beneath our feet barely exists as all we can see is openness sprawling, stretching out against the immense surrounding and the absolute silence before light, before time may start again, exists between each thundering heartbeat I take.

And he turns to me, his face black against the grey, but I know that looks into my eyes when he says, "Tell me about the one who created the scars inside you. Tell me about the one who ripped away those strips of your soul and left you bleeding. I can see it every time I look at you, I can see that I'm not the only one who bleeds."

"Please Spencer," I want to beg, "Don't ask me to talk about that. Not now, not here" I want to plead with him to leave me to my wounds, don't ask me to uncover them and show my disfigurement.

"We're alone here Aaron. I want you to tell me." He commanded it, he asked it of me with the gentlest voice, know I was powerless to deny him.

So, with the world turning greys to brilliant colour all around us, with blues turning to purples, reds and finally yellow I spoke to him of Sean. And with the sun finally warming our skin and drying the wetness that soaked my cheeks, I told him of Sean, my lover, my best friend, my damnation, my heart, my....mine.

..0.

"_Tell me about the one who created the scars inside you" I had to ask. I saw his influence reflected in Aaron's eyes so often. A man, this lover had cut deep wounds. I needed to know. It was part of why I knew he would be safe; he was hurt almost as much as I am. _

"_Please Spencer. Don't ask me to talk about that. Not now, not here"_

"_We're all alone here Aaron, I want you to tell me. Because when you look at me sometimes you get that same look, as if you're seeing someone else. What is it you are thinking at those times? When you look at me but are seeing years ago?"_

"_It was Sean, Sean Harris an ex lover of mine. He died and sometimes I think of him when I touch you, god knows why, you're nothing alike."_

"_Except for the pain" I said meeting his eyes as evenly as I could manage, for this he needed me strong. _

"_Except for the pain" he agreed sadly. "He was incredible you know. So courageous and arrogant and brilliant. I couldn't understand why someone as charismatic would want to be with someone as boring as me."_

_He spoke softly, and I listened silently, he was lost in the past and I was only a witness to it all, that was what he needed anyway. He smiled quietly, remembering an earlier self. _

"_He was utterly courageous…or maybe just misguided, I don't know. But he was everything I wasn't, everything I could never be. I'm sure he believed himself immortal, proven time and time again by the fact that he continued to remain unharmed despite his own reckless actions. He drove himself into more and worse situations. And even then it wasn't enough, he wanted the adrenalin, the rage of it coursing throughout his life. _

_He was a journalist you know, volunteered to travel to those hideous places where human graces fail. And so often he was swept up in it for weeks and months, calling only to tell me of how he had escaped death once again. _

_And I would beg him, beg him to return, to prove to me that he was whole and unharmed and to enter my arms, my embrace. Be physical with me so I could know for sure that he was still alive. _

_And as Sudan followed Rwanda and Sarajevo followed Afghanistan and when a gunshot wound to the leg in Chechnya brought him home for a seven-month recovery, it fell to me to give him that adrenalin rush. I criticised his idiocy and loved him even harder for it. _

_I was his rock, he used to say. I was safe harbour for him between conflicts, he always told me, his sanctuary of calm normalcy. But in reality I knew that I was simply a place for him to call home when he wasn't there. A fantasy life he could dream about in those long nights far away, a story to tell around fires and in burnt out buildings of those waiting at home. _

_But, you've got to understand, with him I could do things I would never do alone. He pushed me to accompany him into the wild. And I did, so often that I learnt his ability to forget my own mortality for a while, almost. _

_We travelled across Africa on a motorbike, filling our fuel tank wherever possible in these small nowhere places where the military helped if only to get us out of town. With no roads, we followed truck tracks as they stretched out across the desert, sure that eventually we had to arrive somewhere, anywhere. And we did, we arrived in Khartoum after eleven days in the desert relieved and so very much alive. We didn't even think of the danger, he needed to be there for his story and I needed to know what it was that made him beg to return there again, time after time. _

_Those seven months of recovery were a strange time for us. _

_He came home tired, which soon progresses to bored and then finally edgy. He needed something to swirl his blood and panic his mind. And strangely it was me who provided him with the answer. He told me of getting arrested in Russia, sitting with handcuffs on and a blindfold, wondering whether he would be one of the ones to simply disappear. Luckily he was freed, but I wasn't able to miss the fire raised in his eyes as he told me the story. _

_That night I blindfolded him and tied his hands behind his back. I fucked him harder that night than I'd ever done before. We both learned something interesting, to me he was beautiful like that, bound and needing me and he realised that I could give him that rush he needed. _

_The next morning he told me of how he was caught and whipped once trying to steal pictures of troop movements in Southern Sudan. That night, he received it from my belt twice before I chickened out. _

_The next night I didn't chicken out. _

_The night after that he came to me begging for it. _

_Weeks passed and I realised I liked that power, that awareness of my own dominance over another, over him. He liked getting it all stripped away._

_Over the months that passed, he pushed me harder and harder and I gave to him what I could, but we soon realised that what I offered him wasn't nearly enough. We visited clubs, took risks and eventually I gave him my blessing to see others. In blind fear I'd loose him if I didn't, I agreed._

_One man, one night, never more than one and never more than once with each. _

_At first I had tried to participate, to bring another into our bed, but I couldn't. I couldn't watch another use him, hurt him and give him what he asked for so desperately. _

_I just couldn't watch that." _

_His voice brakes and suddenly I realise, he's back there, in that room, wherever it was watching it all over again. I can almost see it but not quite. I can almost fall but I can't see who it is, what happened, I just don't know enough, I can't access that place and I need to know. _

"_Tell me." I say, "I need to know. What happened to him?" _

"_No Spencer. You don't. It's over, all of it, he's dead. It's over. Please!" His voice almost a whisper for most of his story rises now, and the final words said and unsaid echo out over the valley below, hanging suspended in the air like prayers. _Please! Don't ask me to face that again.


	11. Chapter 11

**He fell, he fell so quickly.**

**The file barely open, the pages barely read. But he'd fallen with only a breath and a small clenching of his fingers, not even a fist.**

**He'd simply leant back against the chair he was strapped to, closed his eyes, took a breath and fell. The only indication that anything had changed was a twitch in his hand, not even a fist.**

"**Simple Damnation," said a voice that wasn't Reid's, though it sounded very much like his, "It was all, in the end, that I could offer any of them." He sounded almost apologetic, almost regretful.**

**The voice was quiet, melancholic in a way that spoke of regret. Resigned and strangely gentle.**

**Though I didn't have a name to give this man, whoever he was, he would soon realize where he was , that he was caught or at least believe so. He would never realize he was a creation in Reid's mind. If he were to look in a mirror, Reid's mind would soon create the image he expected. If he gazed at Reid's hands, they would appear as his own, unchanged. Reid's mind was the perfect trap, but a fiction, a captured image.**

**We haven't caught anything but an imprint, but usually it's enough to fool them. He won't know how or when but usually it's enough to get a full picture, a perfect profile.**

"**They're like trains" my instructor had once said with a quirky smile, a silly anecdote to amuse the class.**

"**Their mind is a train that travels the tracks of their personality carrying memories and knowledge as cargo. But we can take that train and by filling it differently send it careening down another track, another personality. The tracks are true representations of the other person, but the train has only what we have filled it with. But here's the kicker, if the information you gave them doesn't fit or rings false their mind will discard it, ignore it. Find the gaps in their knowledge and you can see where you're wrong. A great was to check facts" She's finished with a cheerful wink, like a teacher giving away test questions, cheat sheets to our future crimes.**

**Call in a Sera just to double check your facts, even then I'd bitten back angry words. But now that possibility, even the smallest of advantages could help this case. I was willing to try anything.**

**The man who wasn't Reid was looking around the room clearly confused as to his surroundings.**

"**Where am I?" he asked carefully, his last outburst forgotten as if he's never spoken. It must have been his thoughts spoken aloud; occasionally they do that for the initial few seconds as the transition fades.**

"**An office at the Harrown Springs Police Department" I couldn't take Reid into the interview rooms made of steel and cement, "We're here to discuss the assaults and murders you have committed."**

"**Ah" he breathes out, barely audible. And he shifts for a moment, eyes lost outside the window. The pieces of his memory that Reid has been able to fit together are trying to formulate an understanding, to place this situation within a context of experience.**

**And when he fails, it's palatable. Shoulders hunch, feet still their restless movements.**

"**Assalts and Murders," He laughs bitterly, "I guess you would call it that." And he's silent then, for a long time, laughing to himself sadly.**

"**All the souls to empty onto this world and I have been chosen. Chosen to uncover it all, a mission, our Lord has given a mission." He seems strangely sad about it, like he wishes it were another way. He isn't excited by violence I realized, he's disgusted but following orders- following in the path of his own delusions, a slave to them.**

"**Why?" I ask. An open question, he'll take it anyway he likes, just to get him talking.**

"**Because I'm a believer, flawed and in need of redemption. And I have a chance, He has given. To show those Daughters of Eve, Followers of Ash - Redemption! I am blessed, cursed. And those others, those hidden angels, so long waiting that they've forgotten it all, I will free them of their earthy prisons!" He's animated now. Fighting the restraints - and confusedly looking at me as if he hadn't noticed them before- or maybe he expected to be freed of them now that his righteousness had been explained.**

**He was ready to walk out, ready to continue his mission and if Reid were not brought back, he would. He in this borrowed form would step outside and Reid's gentle hands would soon be covered in blood.**

**I want to shake him, slap and hurt him, bring Reid back. Get this filth out of him.**

**I can see him in Reid's eyes, looking back at me. In the curl of his hands, the shape of his shoulders, I know it's not Reid there. And that is my own form of simple damnation.**

**I turn my back to him willing myself to get back in control. I'm unable to watch this figure hunched inside Reid's form much longer.**

"**So the women you killed were what? Demons?"**

"**Demons!" He laughs, "Humans, I'd be the dead one if they were demons." He's resistant now so I pull up a chair, facing him directly, against all my needs, to continue the interview.**

"**You murdered humans then?"**

"**I freed them. Or offered them freedom. Two chose to take it."**

"**So you killed them?"**

**He can't respond, I've cornered him. So he falls back to the safety of the bible, reciting. Some I've heard before and some totally new verses, all on the damnation of women.**

**I've had enough and I slap him, hard.******

My palm and fingers imprinting red on Reid's delicate skin. And he gasps – torn and wondering, shaken in this body he possesses.

**It's not enough to bring back Reid but it does confuse his mind enough to give me time.**

**I grasp the wrist straps and release them. His waist is next. Then I pull him into my arms, across my legs. His wrists then again I fasten together behind his back.**

**It's familiar and comforting to feel him physically rest against me, his body. I know it's him even when the filth keeps spilling out of his mouth. I know those scars, the line running up the back of his neck, smaller ones down his arms. I know the warmth of his skin as I ease down his pants, worn specially today so that I'd have the ability to do just this.**

**I stop for a moment, my hand resting gently on his skin. Ignoring that other man's struggles as I remember two nights ago, how beautifully Reid reacted to my touch, muffled sounds. And I want that, want him back.**

**So I start. Raising my hand with the other hand braced against his back, sending it down fast and hard.**

**.**

_**He was nervous as he strapped me to the chair. His mind was thick with guilt and worry. It was distracting and warming, filled the room with his presence.**_

_**He was gentle as always, easing the straps across my waist and wrists. All the time glancing at me, looking for my reactions.**_

_**I'd wished I had some to give him. Fear or anger, show him how much I hated doing this, being this. But I don't have any left to show him, it's been too long, too much.**_

_**So this, waiting to fall, it's more like expectation. I'll leave and it'll be emptiness, and I'll disappear for a while.**_

_**And I fell, so quickly I fell.  
The words from his lips barely read, all I'd seen, learnt of this killer. He was in my mind already whispering minor miseries and hurtful deeds.**_

_**But this time it wasn't nothingness, it was worse.**_

_**I felt him speak, as if I were speaking, my lips moving, my tongue forming words.**_

_**God, I could hear those thoughts, bitter, twisted as though they were my own. As though they made sense.**_

_**And I could do nothing.**_

_**And his emotions, they flooded me, inside of everything I am.**_

"_**I..." I wanted to scream, "Hotch, Please! Hotch!"**_

_**But he was there in control, all of it, this other me. Every aching emotion, flicker of thought I watched, felt. I watched Hotch struggle with himself, grit his teeth and speak till he finally couldn'tlisten anymore. He snapped and slapped me.**_

_**It was like being whipped, a note ringing out through me, deep and jarring. The pain reaching me where I was, letting me feel. It was so good! Icy water striking my skin.**_

_**Then he pulled me against him, that despicable one ranting on still with my tongue. With my words.**_

_**But in his arms, held down, held close he began.**_

_**I had to fight, like never before I had to battle to come back. His hand, with each impact, giving me back parts of myself. Giving me ways out, doorways to enter, ropes to grasp, limbs to move, tongues to still from spilling those horrible words. He called me back when I was trapped.**_

_**The pain , it was so real then. Impact, jarring, every part of me was focused entirely on it. Pain. Pain and him that brought it.**_

_**I fought the other one back, locked away with the others. Where he could rage and roam in those darkest places in my mind.**_

"_**Hotch," I managed, barely a breath.**_

_**But instantly he stilled, laying a warmed palm against my back reassuringly.**_

"_**Spencer," The relief he felt soaking into me, his affection honey thick.**_

"_**I was there, the whole time." I gasped out, "I felt it all"**_

_**He's silent for a long time, horrified and guilt ridden emotion floods around us.**_

"_**God, I'm sorry…Spencer, I'm so sorry"**_


End file.
